


Retribution in the Oven

by FreelanceMem



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: M/M, Mpreg, Revenge, Scientific vengeance, The Medics are all Mad here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-26 16:18:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 31
Words: 101,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23374738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreelanceMem/pseuds/FreelanceMem
Summary: When Medic discovers that the team's Pyro is pregnant but without clear signs of knowing how, Medic takes it upon himself to advise Pyro as his doctor and to investigate his colleagues. He keeps Pyro's wellbeing at the forefront of his work, but finds himself unwilling to let go of a new little experiment. Proposing he use his own body for this experiment, Medic becomes inspired for the retribution that will put his awful coworkers in their place.
Comments: 196
Kudos: 46





	1. All Medic's Fault

“I can’t believe you!” Scout shouted, throwing his shoe across the room.

“Another match,” the Spy growled with disdain.

“You’re all losing pikers! The lot of you don’t even know what you’re doing!” the Sniper growled, as he unloaded the live rounds from his rifle.

The Engineer cocked his shotgun, sending empty shells to the floor with the rest of the junk on the dirty floor, “Come say that again. Right to my face.”

“Team failed!” the Heavy roared, slamming his locker door.

“I’ll say whatever I wanna say!” the Sniper yelled at the Engineer.

“Did we lose again?” the Demo’s whiny moan was annoying to listen to. It was even worse seeing him collapse onto a bench. Instead of passing out, as he does after drinking, he broke down into noisy sobs.

Pyro bent down to pat Demo on the back. He said some muttering things to him, but nobody could make out what Pyro said. Most of the time, nobody had any idea what the Pyro was trying to say.

“You’re all a bunch of losers!” the Scout announced.

“Look who’s talking!” the Engineer pointed at him.

“You put your junk in the worst places possible! That’s the last time I trust you to provide ammo!” Scout gestured wildly as he spoke.

“You are all dishonorably discharged!” Soldier had near the loudest voice of all of them as he stomped into the respawn room.

“Yea yea,” the Scout rolled his eyes, “This ain’t boot camp, Soldier.”

“This is war!” the Soldier got into Scout’s face, “And you would do well to stop pussy footing around and start acting like it!”

“Get out of my face!” Scout shoved him, “I wouldn’t have been short on ammo if not for Engie constantly getting his shit blown up.”

“Nobody covered my spot!” the Engineer raised his voice.

“And I wouldn’t have been dead so much if doc had actually healed me!” Scout turned to point at the Medic.

Medic was silent, quietly folding his field gloves and hanging his field coat. It was hard enough dealing with these idiots when they were all shouting for him, calling him to go in different directions. It was only worse dealing with them all yelling in his face. He was not going to deal with that this morning.

“If you had any actual medical training, you wouldn’t be such a shoddy workman, doc!” the Soldier shook a finger at him, as if somehow there was scorn behind his words.

The Medic did not even consider their words anymore. They meant nothing. None of them would listen to him, so why should he listen to them? Still, he had worked hard to keep them alive today. He had worked hard to get them to push forward. And when none of them listened to him, they had failed once again.

“It’s doc’s job to keep us from dying!” the Scout went on.

“It is your job to scout out the damn perimeter,” the Engineer barked.

“And where were you? With your tinkering toys?” the Soldier turned on the Engineer.

“My equipment got blown to smithereens near forty eight times today!” Engineer gave the Soldier a shove.

“I didn’t see you making any headway with the match! All I saw was your ass toddling around the respawn!” Soldier poked Engineer in the chest.

“I didn’t see you making any headway either, Soldier!” Scout spat, “All I saw was you blowing up everything but the enemy!”

“You wanna take this outside, punk?” Soldier threatened the Scout.

At least they were not turned on him now. He could just slip away and make headway on something else. Maybe he would just turn on music and smoke away the stress. It was not worth getting them to turn on him again.

“I would have had those lousy, good for nothing reds on the ropes if it hadn’t been for Medic!” the Soldier pointed his direction.

Scout rolled his eyes, “Medic is never freaking where he’s supposed to be.”

“Doc, you should really work on being where you should be,” the Engineer added.

Medic said nothing as he cleaned the mud off of his field boots. He slipped on the more casual boots he wore around the base. Then he had a seat so he could work the muck out of the seams of leather with an old toothbrush.

“You’re all lousy,” the Sniper growled with a slam of his locker, “Medic’s just the poison ivy on top of this heap of garbage!”

Sniper made his way past them, shoving between them and pushing a path. Spy was at his heel, puffing fervently at his cigarette. If anyone thought they had been leaving together peacefully, their thought was crushed when Sniper turned around and gave the Spy a silent warning with a shaking fist.

Medic said nothing. He knew what would happen if he said anything. They would turn on him again. They always turned on him. It was always _**his**_ fault somehow. Yet none of them could be accountable for what they were doing out there on the field.

When he was satisfied with the quality of his boot cleaning, he set them at the bottom of his locker. He paused to adjust his coat on its hanger, before he closed the locker door.

“I bet we would have won a round, if not the match, if you were where you’re supposed to be, Medic!” the Scout barked out.

“Nothing to say for yourself?” the Soldier demanded.

Medic bit his tongue. He wanted to say a nasty no, with an attitude so thick they would not stand for it. They would all turn on him and start screaming and hollering.

He chose not to look at them. He did not acknowledge any of them. They were all turned to him, from what he could see in his peripheral vision. Even the Pyro was looking at him, expecting some form of response.

Medic suddenly realized that the Demoman had gone silent. He was quiet for a while and that probably meant he had a few too many. He was known to drink during the match which made him prone to crying fits and passing out.

He turned to face the Pyro, “Would you bring the Demoman to the infirmary? I will go prepare a stomach pump and detox treatment for him.”

The others were silent. Apparently they did not find anything to respond to this with. Pyro was silent, but readily hoisted the seemingly lifeless mercenary onto his shoulder. When Medic turned, he followed the doctor out of the respawn and down the hallway. As if it were not enough that he had to avoid the yelling in respawn, he also had to deal with the volatile screaming in the halls. Now the Sniper and the Spy were throwing insults at each other and trying to tear the other’s throat out without their blades.

Medic opened the double doors and showed Pyro to the infirmary beds, “This one here. It’ll be easiest to move him around.”

Pyro placed the Demoman down on the bed and then began to talk. Through their mask and suit there was no way Medic could tell what he was saying. It was already difficult to understand English half the time, with these uneducated and unruly folk who spoke without care for proper wording, but to have something covering the mouth and face made it more stressful.

It did not really matter what the Pyro was saying anymore. If he was not wearing a mask and Medic could actually hear him, he would probably be criticizing the Medic about something just like everybody else. He would just ignore the man’s incessant whining and go about his work instead. So, when the Pyro finished what he was saying, and Medic was sure he was not about to speak again, he finally turned to the Pyro.

Of anything in his work, there was one thing he stuck to. It was not so much that any of these cretins did anything close to a good job. Rather, it seemed that if he kept up a more positive environment then more positive results came from his work. That was something he learned through science. That was something he should have thought of before losing his license. Still, it helped with the psychological sciences, which applied to everyday things as well.

“Thank you for your help, Pyro,” he said, with a small gesture towards the door.

Quietly, the Pyro headed to the door. There seemed to be some hesitation, but Medic did not worry about it too much. He had to deal with the Demoman’s regular stomach pumping. And as he assembled that, he could already hear a gathering of patients outside of his door.

Once the treatment was at a point where it just needed to go for a while, he walked over to the door and opened up once side. There were some arguing mercenaries and a few quiet ones on the chairs. His eyes came to land on the chair closest to the door, with the Heavy seated there. Medic stepped aside and gestured inwards, beckoning the Heavy into his infirmary whilst the others were arguing over the number tickets. Numbers were the only way to keep order with these fools.

But it seemed numbers were a problem now. Heavy lifted his ticket and pointed to the Soldier who was arguing with the Sniper. Soldier was holding the ticket clearly marked with the number 1, but Heavy was holding ticket number 2.

“Soldier!” he barked. Before the American could react, Medic snatched the ticket from his hand, “If you’re going to argue, don’t waste my time!”

That was a mistake and he could see it as the Soldier puffed up his chest to prepare for a fight. Medic spun around, acting quickly as he snatched the number from Heavy. Heavy looked perplexed as his ticket was replaced with the number one. As soon as Medic handed the number 2 ticket to the Soldier, the man calmed down and remained quiet.

He turned on his heel and marched inside. He did not bother with the door this time. Heavy came right in and took a seat on the examination table. Medic grabbed his stethoscope and joined the man with the stool on wheels.

“What seems to be the problem?” he inquired.

“Thumb is swollen,” the man raised his hand to reveal not a swollen thumb but a swollen joint at the base of his thumb, “Hurts to move.”

Medic reached out and as soon as he touched the hand, the burning throbbing member jolted away as the big man cried out. Medic held his hands out, open and ready to be gentle. The Heavy quickly gave his hand back, aware that he looked like a big baby for whining about it.

“Does your wrist hurt to move as well?” Medic inquired, gently feeling around the swollen hot area below the man’s calloused palm.

“Da,” was the simple response, once the Heavy realized what Medic meant.

Still, when Medic was touching it, the man was wincing and looking like he might pull the hand away. “Might need an X-ray,” Medic pushed away, rolling on the wheels towards a counter where he left a clipboard of yellow note paper. It had a format that allowed him to take down all the notes he needed without trying to organize it on the spot.

“You likely sprained the joint,” he noted aloud, “Though I think your wrist pain is a fracture.”

“Fracture?” the big Russian inquired.

Medic looked at the questioning face peering back at him. He had to be aware that he was years more prepared with study and practice in the skill of language, but the Heavy Weapons Guy simply was not. Many words baffled him that should have already been in his vocabulary.

“The bone,” Medic stated. He turned back to his notes to add that Heavy needed a translation for the word fracture as well as sprain. He set this aside with his pen and stood up. “Let’s get your hand in the X-ray then,” he gestured for the Heavy to follow him.

At the other side of the room, behind a privacy curtain hid the radiation section. It was not the best set up and none of his arguments led any of their employers to care. Not that his coworkers seemed to care. Though they probably just did not know what it did, so they would not know better anyways.

“You’re not pregnant are you?” Medic laughed as he rolled up the big man’s sleeve. His buttons would get in the way of an X-ray and he could not have that.

“What?” Heavy asked, looking to Medic with what almost looked like worry.

“Never mind,” Medic laughed as he laid the Heavy’s arm down with his palm up, “Hold your arm like this. Hold very still.”

“Da,” the Heavy nodded.

Medic hurried behind the curtain. He made quick work of the protective vest and the controls for the X-ray. “You won’t feel a thing, so just sit still,” he ordered.

He knew that the curtain did not protect him from the radiation, not really. Still, he stood in front of the privacy screen, out of the Heavy’s line of sight. It prevented him from knowing the precautions that were taken. It also somehow made Medic feel safer. Sure they were not protected, but they were not the ones who had to do this eight or so times a day.

“Is finished?” the Heavy asked.

“Ja,” he undid his vest and set it aside. He joined the Heavy to look at the results of the X-ray. He set them up on the light board. “As I thought, you have a fracture,” he pointed to one of the bones in the wrist. His finger moved up and he frowned. It was not a sprain at the thumb, but another fracture, a hairline one.

Medic sighed as he turned off the light board and set the picture of the hand aside. He was not even through with his first patient and he was so tired. The match was finished, but he was not.

“Doctor?” the Heavy called his attention.

Medic adjusted his glasses and turned to his patient, “Yes?”

“Heavy had this pain for hours,” he gestured to his thumb, “Is bad?”

“Well, it is not good,” Medic explained, “But I will wrap you up and put you on the highest doses. You’ll feel better within a couple of hours.”

“Very good!” the Heavy cheered in his big roaring voice.

“Come, I’ll set you up by the Demo,” Medic gestured for him to follow.

Medic brought him to the bed next to the Demoman. Once the Heavy was comfortable, he wrapped up the hand to stabilize the bones. He turned on a medigun and placed it to aim for the Heavy’s hand.

“There!” he smiled, “You will feel better in a couple of hours.

“Would not be broken with doctor’s help,” the Heavy said.

“Excuse me?” Medic did a double take on the Heavy’s face.

“If doctor had healed Heavy, all the way, Heavy would not be in bad state,” Heavy explained, “Now is like this.”

“What? I-” he found himself wanting more than ever to defend himself. It was not like in the respawn room where there were many people. This was a direct attack on him, after all. It was hard to remind himself not to get defensive before words came popping out of his mouth.

“Is okay,” Heavy growled, “Heavy understands, doctor goes off to heal baby men. But, maybe if Medic helps, Heavy can make push on cart.”

Medic bit his tongue and turned away from the man. He made his way across the room to the door. Every step was heavy-footed. Each inch closer to the door made him feel more exhausted. He wanted to just collapse on a bed and let these morons figure their own problems out.

He pushed the doors open and took a breath, “Who is next?”

“Soldier, but he’s still going for Sniper’s socks,” Scout pointed to the American holding the Australian upside down.

Medic sighed, “Who is number three then?”

“That would be Sniper,” the Engineer pointed out.

“Put me down!” the Sniper punched the Soldier in the thigh.

“I will show you the-” Medic cut the Soldier off by closing the door. He rubbed his forehead and took a breath. He needed sleep right now, not this headache.

He opened the door, “Who has number four then?”

“That’d be me, sir,” the Engineer got up from his seat.

Medic sighed and held the door for him. The Texan had this strange waddle that made him look like he was still carrying weight on one shoulder. Maybe he should look into that.

“You seem a bit off-kilter, could you walk towards the desk, please?” Medic pointed to the work desk across the room.

“My walk’s fine, doc,” the Engineer protested, “It’s the damn crack in my skull.” Snarling, the Engineer lifted his helmet to reveal a bloody mark across his head.

Medic was not the type to take instructions on his work from those who did not know how to do it, so he was not about to start taking shit from the Engineer. “Yes, and all injuries are important. So please walk towards the desk,” Medic told him firmly.

The Engineer sighed in exasperation. Seeing that Medic would not budge otherwise, he turned and stomped towards the desk. He stopped there and turned back around to face him. He held up his hands in exasperation.

“You happy now?” the Engineer questioned.

“You carry a lot of weight on one shoulder,” the Medic noted.

“Yea, no shit,” the Engineer spat.

“You need to switch it up,” the Medic insisted.

“You’re ignoring my concussion for a lecture about how I hold my equipment?” the Engineer barked.

“You’re doing some serious damage to how your body moves,” the Medic argued, “Your muscles and tendons are strained. You’re creating sores. You need to balance your body, or else you will slow yourself d-”

The Engineer raised a hand, “I ain’t interested in a lecture if you’re not going to do your job.”

Medic sighed, “Fine.” He was not sure what he expected anyways. These men never listened to him when it was unimportant, why would they ever listen to him when it was important? So he gestured for the Engineer to come to the examination table.

He grabbed supplies for stitches and popped a Vicodin into his palm for the pain. He used a knife to cut the pill in half, dropping the other half into the bottle for later. He might need it with the headache he would deal with today. When he sat down in the wheelie stool, he handed the half pill to the Engineer.

“What’s this?” the Engineer demanded.

“It’s for the pain,” the Medic answered, as he stood up to clean the area on his scalp. Forget pain, with how much grime got around this wound, the man’s scalp might become infected.

“You don’t think I need the medigun?” the Engineer asked, though it did not actually sound like a question. It sounded like the Engineer already diagnosed himself with something more serious.

Medic raised his hand in front of the Engineer’s face, “How many fingers do you see?”

“Five,” the Engineer answered.

Medic shook his hand and when he stopped, he said, “And now?”

“Three,” the Engineer answered as quickly as before.

Medic shook it one more time and asked, “One more time.”

“One,” the Engineer’s lips were curving into a frown.

“Your concussion is very minor. It is nothing too serious,” the Medic informed him, “Have you had any dizziness or nausea?”

“Er…no…” the Engineer finally seemed to get the picture that he did not know better about medicine.

“Then you’re going to be fine. I’m going to stitch you up,” he warned before sticking the needle through the skin. The man reacted anyways, hand going up to touch the site. Medic slapped the hand before returning to his work. “I’ll put a bandage over it and give you some antibiotics. Since you didn’t bother to clean it and just kept rubbing dirt into the wound, you might end up with an infection.”

“And the medigun?” the Engineer pressed.

“Five minutes at best,” the Medic rolled his eyes, “You’ll be good as new.”

The Engineer pointed to the Heavy, “What’s he in for?”

“Multiple fractures,” Medic answered, “Do you want to sit here and make small talk? Or do you have something better to do?”


	2. Sniper's Diagnosis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sniper has a...AHEM particularly sensitive issue.

Medic followed the patient to the door. There, he found that the Sniper was curled up in a fetal position, looking like he had been nailed in the groin. The Soldier was struggling to stay upright, while holding his back.

“Can I just get mine over with real quick? It’s just real quick!” Scout bounced to his feet and practically got up into Medic’s face.

“We’re going in order,” Medic glared, wanting the ignorant brat to get out of his personal space.

“Soldier’s next, then,” the Engineer gestured to the man in question.

“Oh come on!” the Scout pleaded.

Medic sighed and walked over to help the Soldier walk into the infirmary. It seemed that whatever he and Sniper had been up to, it had gotten him some pain. Of course, he needed to ask the necessary questions just to be sure. Soldier would do stupid things like hold his back when it was not the thing in pain.

“Where does it hurt, Soldier?” he asked.

“My back,” Soldier’s voice was strained when he spoke.

“I see,” he directed the man to the bed next to Heavy. Heavy watched curiously, as Medic helped the Soldier lay down on his side. “And what were you doing before your back started hurting?”

“I was wrangling the thief who hides in bushes!” the Soldier barked, “The pervert with the long socks!”

“Sniper?” Medic asked, as he pulled up the back of the Soldier’s shirt.

“Yes! He needs to be shown how proper socks are worn! And he needs to be taught a lesson!”

“Lesson in what?” Heavy interrupted.

“He needs a damn lesson, my fellow American!” the Soldier said, pointing to Heavy, “You ought to give him a lesson.”

“What exactly needs sorted?” Medic felt around Soldier’s back to feel for any evident injuries.

“For one, he needs to learn that socks aren’t for God damn sandals!” the Soldier punched the mattress, “It’s un-American!”

Heavy chuckled at that, “Other thing?”

“Other thing? Well, his backwards country apparently doesn’t know what a toilet is for!” Soldier said loudly, “Sick of him pissing wherever he’s at!”

“You’re sick of jarate,” Medic let out a breathy laugh.

He was sick of it himself. Nobody wanted to be pissed on, and that was the insult. The worst thought was probably the idea that Sniper would have no problem taking his piss directly on somebody. He did it to taunt his opponents, a teammate who pissed him off was not far off.

“He is an un-American pervert!” the Soldier announced.

“Soldier, you pulled a muscle in your back,” the Medic informed him.

“Again?” the Soldier sounded surprised.

“Yes, again,” Medic sighed and fetched another medigun, “You do this every time!”

“I do not do this every day,” the Soldier argued.

“You do this too often,” the Medic growled in response, “You need to stop lifting teammates who weigh as much as you or more.”

“I will do whatever I damn well need to for this American war!” the Soldier announced proudly.

Medic sighed and accepted it. He was not going to get anywhere with this one. He might as well just let it go and lessen his own headache.

He went to the door and nearly slammed it into the Sniper. The man stumbled back before stumbling forward. He hobbled awkwardly into the infirmary.

“May I ask what is wrong?” the Medic was hesitant as he wondered what Sniper had been here for if the hobbling was because of the Soldier.

“Before that one fucking knocked my family jewels in,” Sniper pointed to the Soldier, “I was coming to ask you about a rash.”

“A rash?” oh good, Medic might have an easy one to just dismiss from his work space.

“Down there,” Sniper pointed downwards with both index fingers.

Medic hesitated and gestured to the examination table. He could only guess that the gesture and lack of definition meant that it was around his private area. So, he went for the latex gloves and the popsicle sticks.

He sat down on the stool and looked at the Sniper, “Please show me?”

Confirming his theory, the Sniper dropped his pants immediately. He was not even bothered by the audience of injured mercenaries on the care beds. Medic busied himself with fitting gloves over his hands and fetching a stick. When sniper had himself exposed it was instantly evident what was wrong.

“You see comrade?” Soldier spoke to the Heavy loudly, “That’s an example of why the non-Americans don’t have any common decency! Sniper just drops trou and Medic’s going right for it!”

“Medic is doctor, no? He will fix Sniper’s peepee problem?” Heavy asked.

“My issue isn’t your business, you priss!” the Sniper barked.

“Sniper,” Medic used the stick to shift what he was looking at, getting a look at more of the scrotum. He bit his lip as some part of him wanted to cringe. It looked too damn painful to be messing with. He did not really want to touch it with the popsicle stick, let alone his gloved hands. “I think you are going to need something stronger than a rash cream. Put your pants on,” he instructed, before discarding of the stick and gloves. He hurried to the sink to wash his hands thoroughly, just to be safe.

“Well doc?” Sniper asked, as he donned his clothes.

“Unfortunately,” Medic grabbed a clean towel to dry his hands, “I believe you have genital herpes. We don’t have the treatment on hand, so I’ll have to do a blood test so I can file the paperwork and have the treatment shipped in.”

“Genital what? It’s just a rash!” the Sniper argued.

The Medic sighed, “I’ll draw some blood and the test will confirm or deny it. Until then…” He might as well give the Sniper something to tide him over. So he pulled out some rash cream and tossed it to the man. He dared not touch his hand, knowing where it had already touched. “Here’s some rash cream to help with the itching.”

“This is all I need,” Sniper stated, “I don’t need no blood test.”

“Well, we need to be sure,” Medic pulled out a needle and syringe, prepping to draw blood, “Don’t touch me with your hands.”

“But doc, it’s just a rash,” Sniper insisted.

“Sit still, I’ll do the blood test and it’ll confirm if it’s just a rash or not,” Medic insisted, as he put on a new pair of gloves to avoid touching Sniper’s skin.

“It isn’t like that, doc,” Sniper protested, “Look, I’ll use the rash cream and it’ll clear right that.”

“Or it’s herpes and you will need prolonged treatment to suppress the symptoms,” Medic replied, as he inserted the needle.

Sniper sighed, “What kind of treatment is there to cure herpes?”

“There isn’t,” Medic informed him, “Once you have it, it doesn’t go away. It can infect anybody who touches skin to skin with you. That means any contact, not just anal or vaginal penetration.”

Sniper’s frowning face did not change as Medic drew enough blood to take a few tests. One test for herpes, a double to confirm it, and a couple more to test for other possible things. It was better to be careful and certain of a diagnosis, after all. Sniper did not seem all that convinced though.

“When I’ve finished with the tests,” he spoke as he withdrew the needle. He replaced it with a cotton swab, which Sniper pinched between his forearm and upper arm with practiced understanding. “I will summon you to my office to go over the results and survey the possibilities of treatment.”

“Right,” was all Sniper said as he rose to his feet, “Can I go now?”

Medic never knew Sniper to be the type to be embarrassed. But standing there, which his head lowered and his arm clenched over the cotton swab, he seemed to be at his most vulnerable. He was not sure an enemy had taunted Sniper hard enough to make him look this vulnerable.

“Let me put a bandage on it first,” he fetched a little adhesive strip and took Sniper’s arm to replace the cotton swab, “Keep it clean and don’t pick it.”

“Right,” Sniper nodded before leaving the infirmary with his longest stride.

Medic sighed as he discarded his gloves. This could be a very long and embarrassing treatment for Sniper. Once his symptoms were suppressed he should be fine, and his work likely would not see any problems. It would be a lot of visits and a lot of strange looks from men who did not understand.

“That poor prostitute,” he did not mean to say it out loud, but his thoughts came out as he was rising to his feet.

“What prostitute?” the Soldier asked.

“Whatever harlot gave him that must be suffering,” he pondered with a frown, “They don’t make doctors go through what it’s like to be in certain situations. She might not even try to seek treatment.”

“You think prostitute gave Sniper itch?” the Heavy asked.

Medic’s face became flushed hot as he realized what had just transpired. If he had thought more about the area, he could have handled the situation better. He probably could have brought Sniper back to the supply closet to tell him about this very private thing. No wonder Sniper was looking vulnerable and being defensive. Both the Heavy and the Soldier knew about the diagnosis.

“Sniper’s itch is his business,” Medic dismissed it with a laugh, trying to distract them, “What prostitutes you sleep with is your business. Let’s just keep to our own business.” He strolled to the door and opened it.

“Who is-” he was cut off as Scout held a ticket up to his glasses.

“I’m next,” Scout stated sternly.

Medic stepped back and aside to let the younger man inside. Scout strolled in, headed straight for the examination table. He hopped up onto the table, letting his legs dangle freely.

“You got a lot of space in here to work, huh doc?” Scout asked, “You probably get a lot done with all of this space.”

“Hey doc?” the Soldier interrupted.

“Not now, Soldier,” the Medic waved the man’s words off, “I’m helping Scout now. I will help you when I am done with his problem.”

“I have a question,” Soldier demanded.

“Ask me later,” Medic responded sternly.

“So, doc,” the Scout held out his hand, “Do you think this is infected?”

Medic needed to take a moment to look more closely at the youth’s condition. He was holding out his finger, as if the problem was at the end of it. He had to turn over the hand to get a better angle on the problem.

“It’s a…splinter,” he said aloud.

“Yea, but I think it’s gotten infected,” Scout replied, “It’s been burning since this morning.”

“This morning? You’ve had a splinter since this morning?” Medic fetched tweezers to fish out the tiny projectile.

“Yea, touched the wood fence by the old cow pen,” Scout answered, “Got a splinter from it. I tried sucking it out, but we had work to do. I didn’t really have time to do anything with it.”

“It’s just prolonged picking,” Medic stabilized the hand and peered closely at the splinter. As he had thought, there was clear evidence of picking and scratching. The area around it was red and raised. Part of the skin looked like somebody tried to peel it away. “And obnoxious scratching.” With a quick prick of the tweezers, he had a hold of the piece of wood and pulled it out.

“Ow!” Scout exclaimed at being poked. He bared his teeth and hissed as Medic set the tweezers aside. “Ouch.”

“You’ll be fine,” Medic fetched an adhesive bandage to put over the finger, “Don’t pick at it or mess with the bandage.”

“You’re the best, doc!” Scout smiled.

“Doc, he’s finished,” Soldier called, “Can I ask my question now?”

“Alright Soldier,” Medic sighed as he rose with Scout, “What is your question?”

“I want to get tested for herpes,” Soldier announced.

“That…um…why?” Scout fumbled, interrupting what was a statement for Medic’s consideration.

Before Medic could say anything, Soldier spoke up again, “Sniper got tested. So I should get tested, just in case.”

“Why would you think you got herpes,” Medic felt an overwhelming and cold sense of dread. He did not want to go down the rabbit hole of why Soldier may have contracted something from Sniper’s genitals.

“Wait…really?” Scout looked from Soldier to Medic and back with profound confusion.

“Sniper has peepee itch,” Heavy answered.

Scout turned to Soldier, pointing to him, “Do you have that?”

“Not yet,” Soldier shook his head, “Doc! I need you to test me!”

Scout turned on one heel to face the Medic, his eyes barely able to make contact, “Yea…um…doc…”

Medic held his breath, bracing himself. He was never sure what was going on with the native English speakers. Half the time, he wondered if they conspired against him. Sometimes it seemed as though they were making plans behind his back to befuddle him. Then again, there were times when these two particular men were just too stupid for words to describe.

“I should probably get tested too, right?” Scout asked, “You know, Sniper doesn’t wash his hands when he does his business. And Soldier might have gotten it. And I shake Soldier’s hand sometimes. Like…you know…how gentlemen do.”

Medic did not want to think more about it. He did not want to talk more about it. He did not want to even go into how stupid their assumptions were. It was not completely out of the realm of possibility to contract something because Sniper did not wash his hands, but they were jumping there so fast that he did not want to question it.

“Fine, I will give you both a blood test,” the Medic informed them, “Does anybody have anything else to say?” He almost bit his tongue, barely grasping his filter for calling them idiots and morons.

Heavy raised his hand. He was silent, just staring at the Medic with a pensive gaze.

“Yes, Heavy?” he asked.

“Heavy should be tested too,” the big man stated.

Medic took a deep breath and said, “You think you may have shaken an infected hand?”

The big man paused, thinking over his words slowly. He cleared his throat before he spoke, “Doctor said Sniper might get sick from harlot. Maybe harlot give to others?”

Medic bit his lip, refusing to speak on the topic. He did not want to think about what they did in their free time. He was not unaware that they did things like visit the red light district. But this was not something he actually wanted to think about. Especially not after just inspecting Sniper’s privates.

“Fine, you will all get blood tests,” Medic informed them.

“Woo hoo!” Scout threw his arms up into the air as if he had won something.

Medic proceeded to the exam table and began prepping more test vials. He patted the table and Scout hopped back onto it. Medic was quick with drawing blood, drawing just as much as he had with the Sniper. He would cover just as many bases with these apparently sexually frivolous men as he did with the known exposer. The more he thought about it, the more he was going to have to agree with Soldier that Sniper was a pervert. But that would be as if to say the rest were not just as equally disgusting.

When Scout was on his way, Medic brought supplies to draw blood from the Soldier and the Heavy. They were both rather stoic about it, but afterward Soldier was happily talking about his peepee not having an itch and his test results coming back negative.

Heavy was silently listening. He was not sharing his thoughts about it. Perhaps of any of them, the Russian was the most humbled by his possible predicament. Maybe at least one of them learned from all of this.


	3. Pyro's Diagnosis

After testing the now-conscious Demoman, who was barely informed about the situation, Medic proceeded to the doors. Finally, the waiting area should be clear of people and he should be free to go and rest. The others could see themselves out once they were ready. Else he would be back after he had eaten a snack and laid on a couch reading half a chapter of one of his novels.

When he opened the doors, he found Pyro sitting in one of the chairs. He did not have a ticket in his hand. He was just sitting there. He looked rather uncomfortable though, leaning over and letting his head fall forward.

“Pyro?” Medic called the man’s attention.

Pyro’s head jerked up with a gasp. His whole body followed the motion as he hopped to his feet, like an alert soldier. His fingers started playing together, rubbing and wringing as if with anticipation of something.

Pyro was a special case when it came to communication. Medic had learned that Pyro never learned that they could not hear or understand them. Medic had also learned that Pyro clung to that thing on his head like it was keeping him alive. He wondered if the man slept in it too.

But while Pyro did not understand that he was not understood through the mask, he did understand that he could be understood with flash cards. And so, Medic opened the door and gestured for Pyro to come in.

“I’ll be a minute,” he said as he hurried off to the supply closet.

It did not take much digging because he knew where he left them. They were stored in a shoe box just above the cleaning supplies. He brought the whole box over, drawing a table that would normally be used for tools towards the examination table. He set the box there and pulled out handfuls of cards.

“Tell me, what’s the problem?” he inquired, trying to put some useful cards out for display.

Pyro quickly dug into the box, digging around until he found the card he wanted. He handed it to Medic. It was a picture drawn of a stick person vomiting.

“You’re vomiting? Do you feel nauseated?” he raised the green card with YES written in black marker and the red card with NO written in the same color.

Pyro touched the green card then gave a nod. He laid his hands on his middle and let out an audible groan. Something was bothering him.

“Are you in any pain?” Medic asked.

Pyro touched the red card, shaking their head all the while. Pyro raised his legs to stretch out and lay down on the examination table. Medic moved closer to get a better look.

“Have you eaten anything today?” he inquired.

Pyro touched the green card.

“Do you think it could have made you sick?” Medic pressed.

Pyro touched the red card and shook his head.

Medic set the cards by Pyro’s arm, and proceeded to unzip the front of Pyro’s suit. Pyro’s big chest rose and fell as he tried to relax. Pyro had more to hide here than most did, so Medic double checked to make sure his other patients could not raise their heads and catch a peek at what Pyro had to hide.

“They can’t see anything,” Medic whispered, “Don’t worry.”

Pyro nodded, but Medic got the feeling he was still worried. His fingers were rubbing together and his arms were held stiffly at his sides. He was nervously trying to cooperate.

Medic touched Pyro’s belly and was a little surprised. Pyro was usually a little chunkier than this and he wondered if Pyro had suddenly lost a lot of weight.

“Have you weighed yourself recently?” he inquired.

Pyro shook his head.

“If I bring the privacy screen over, do you think we could weigh you without the suit?” he asked.

He had done this before, but usually only during checkups when they were alone. Pyro was paranoid about others seeing him. He was relieved when Pyro finally nodded.

“Good,” Medic breathed as he hurried to fetch the screen. He dragged it from the X-ray machine and dragged it around the examination table blocking the view of other patients and the door. He fetched a scale and set it on the floor, so as Pyro slowly stripped out of his suit, he could step onto the scale.

With only his flannel, cargo pants and socks on below the neck, Pyro actually looked like he might have taken on a healthier weight. Usually carrying more on his belly and thighs, Pyro had been struggling with being comfortable in these clothes without covering them up in his suit. It was hard enough for him that his body did not seem to feel right to him, which was evident as he raised his arms to try and cover his chest.

“It’s alright,” Medic tried to console his patient, “Just stand on the scale with your arms at your sides. Try to relax. I’m here to help you.”

Pyro took a big audible breath as he lowered his arms and stepped onto the scale. Medic checked the clipboard with Pyro’s information on it and was surprised. Pyro had dropped over twenty seven kilograms since his last checkup.

He took down this information and gave Pyro a nod, “Okay, you can lay down. I’m going to check your belly.”

Once Pyro was laying down again, he laid a gentle hand on the man’s arm. Pyro turned his head to look at him and Medic gave him a firm nod. He lowered his voice so the others would not hear him.

“I’m just going to lift your shirt enough to feel your belly for anything that might be unusual,” he kept his voice soft and calm, trying to make this experience less anxiety inducing for him.

Pyro reached around, searching for something. It took Medic a moment to figure it out, before Pyro got his hands on the red and green cards. He looked at them, then lowered the red card, so he was holding up the green card.

Medic gave him an affirming nod, before undoing the lower buttons of the flannel. He pulled the shirt up just enough to feel around the soft pale skin on his belly. His biggest fear was finding something like a lump of a tumor.

“Does this hurt?” Medic inquired, gently pushing down on Pyro’s abdomen.

Pyro shook his head in response.

“Okay, you can button this up,” Medic pulled the shirt back into place and let the Pyro button his own shirt.

He turned to his clipboard and ran through the questions of the previous checkup. He did not care if he was biased in handling Pyro gently. He did not want his patient to feel uncomfortable, which was easy to do, being surrounded by other men. However, one glance at the clipboard reminded him that there were questions to ask Pyro he would not ask most men.

He licked his lips as he turned back to Pyro, “You had an incredible amount of weight loss since your last check up.”

Pyro turned to the box and dug out a card. It had a clock and had the word ‘recently’ written on it.

“You recently dropped this weight?” he asked in a whisper.

Pyro nodded as he tossed the card aside.

Medic bit his lower lip, “When was your last menstrual cycle?”

Pyro was silent and still. He said nothing and did nothing, as if completely frozen. Medic thought maybe he did not hear him clearly enough, so he moved closer to repeat the question.

“When was your last menstrual cycle?” Medic whispered.

Pyro shook his head quite vigorously. Medic interpreted this as insistance of something. He was not entirely sure what, since the question was not meant for a yes or no answer.

“No?” Medic blinked at Pyro confusedly, “No, you won’t tell me?” It was not unlike Pyro to withhold information when it was uncomfortable or inconvenient to tell the doctor. “I’m here to help you, Pyro,” he insisted in as soft a voice as he could manage, “I just want to make sure you’re healthy.”

Pyro said something muffled under his mask. He waved both hands in the air, trying to get his point across. Of course this mode of communication was useless, as Medic could not hear his point through that mask. All he could really hear were patterns of breathing and noises, things that he heard often enough to understand.

“I cannot understand you with the mask,” Medic turned to the cards.

Pyro got to the cards faster, digging through the box fervently. He decided to wait, while the nervous wreck dug furiously through the shoe box. The gloved fingers scraped across the bottom, flipping over cards in a noisy mess.

“Doc?” he heard the tired moan of the Demoman.

He hesitated, but decided not to ignore it. The Demoman had only woken up a few minutes ago, and he was not in the best shape. He touched the Pyro’s arm, “Excuse me for a moment. I will be right back.”

He slipped around the privacy screen, careful not to cause any exposure to Pyro. He walked over to the Demoman, who was raising his head to furrow his brow at the screen.

“What are you doing?” Demoman squinted at him, fighting against the light in the room.

“I’m with a patient right now,” Medic patted the man’s arm, “Are you feeling okay?”

“I’m…fine. My arm is sore though,” Demoman gestured to the IV in his arm. From the eschew way the needle was twisted under the tape, it looked like somebody had messed with it.

Medic pulled out the needle and bandaged the area. He moved the IV around to put it in the man’s other arm. He taped it securely to make sure it did not move on its own.

“Do not pick it,” he told the Demoman sternly.

“I didn’t pick it,” the Demoman protested.

“Are you alright?” Medic asked.

“I’m fine,” Demoman sighed, “Do I have to have a needle in me?”

“As long as you’re recovering, yes,” the Medic nodded.

“Think hand is okay now, doctor,” the Heavy called his attention.

He turned around, “Give me another minute and I’ll check your hand to be sure it’s fully healed.”

The familiar cry for Medic was muffled but too familiar to miss. He hurried behind the privacy screen to check on Pyro. He was surprised when the masked man handed him two cards.

“What? What is this?” he held up the cards for himself.

The red NO card was in his left hand. In his right hand was a picture of a stick figure with a mess of red spewing from what appeared to be a broken leg. Over the top was written ‘bleeding’ in red pen. Medic looked to the Pyro and the man simply tapped the cards simultaneously.

Medic looked at the cards again, “No…bleeding?”

He looked back up at Pyro, who was nodding. He raised his hand to reveal that he was holding the green YES card.

“W-” Medic hesitated. What did this mean? Did Pyro mean he currently was not bleeding? He could not say when he last bled? “Did you miss your last…cycle? There was no blood?” Medic asked.

“I hope you’re not discussing vampirism with the Pyro!” the Demoman called.

Medic felt a shock go up his spine as he realized he said this too loud. For a moment, he was not sure what to do, other than to panic. Of course, then he realized what the Demoman had said and remembered how stupid these people were.

“I will kill the vampire with my bare hands if I have to!” the Soldier proclaimed.

Medic poked his head around the screen, “It’s puss. There’s puss in an injury. Now shut up and mind your own business!”

“You don’t bleed puss!” the Demoman argued.

“You do when the Medic pokes it with a stick,” the Soldier suggested.

“Pokes what?” Demoman’s vocal pitch rose.

“You know,” Soldier replied, “Pokes a pocket of the stuff and it comes bleeding out.”

“Ah,” the Demoman replied, finally calming down, “That’s probably what it is.”

“Da, is this,” the Heavy added.

Medic took a breath of relief when he returned his attention to the Pyro. Pyro had his arms wrapped around himself, hugging himself tightly.

Medic swallowed and lowered his voice to a whisper, “This may be something that it very well shouldn’t be. Um… Have you been sexually active in the past few months? Even one time?”

Pyro shook his head vigorously.

“I’m not here to judge you, Pyro,” Medic insisted in a whisper, “I only want to help.”

Pyro shook his head again. He seemed to be hugging himself tighter.

“I will need to run to town,” Medic whispered, “You can go…relax while I’m out. When I get back, I’ll have a test for you.”

Pyro shook his head again, picking up his suit. He shook it out, as if there might be uncomfortable wrinkles in it.

“Pyro, you need to be tested,” Medic insisted.

Pyro reached for the red card and shoved it against Medic’s glasses. Medic brushed the hand away and frowned at the man, who was now bouncing on one foot trying to climb back into his protective suit.

“This is about your health and I am here to take care of your health,” Medic insisted.

Pyro shook his head again.

“When I get back,” he made his voice sterner, “I expect you here ready to take a test.”

Pyro shook his head in refusal. He was persistent in it to the point that he picked up the red card to flash it at Medic again.

“I’m not taking no for an answer,” he said, “You will take the test, we will review the results, and then we will figure out where to go from there.”

Once Pyro was fully zipped up and covered in his suit, he pushed the privacy screen aside and stomped away. He headed straight out the door without even saying a word.

“Does he have a peepee itch too?” Soldier asked.

Demoman burst into laughter, rolling so hard that Medic knew his needle was no longer straight in the vein. He was not sure what to do about the man anymore, other than possibly strap him down so he could not injure himself like this.

“Doctor?” the Russian raised his wrapped up hand.

“Right,” Medic strode to his other patients to take care of their issues.

A quick drive from the base to one of the two towns they could reach, and Medic found himself walking around a little pharmacy mart. Medic could not stop wrapping his head around Pyro’s recent changes. Weight loss was not common for pregnancy, but it was not impossible. Their usually stressful workplace added to a new bodily change could make Pyro’s body make changes. Hormonal changes might even change how Pyro was eating and what kind of foods they were eating.

Or it could be unrelated. This could be something else altogether. This could be cancer, presenting itself quietly from the inside, where he could not quite see it. Perhaps it was right where a pregnancy would be.

He shook the thoughts away. He adjusted his glasses as he perused the boxes lined up on the shelves. What he was looking for was by an entire display of condoms, and he was not comfortable with that. Not using a condom could lead to pregnancy, but it felt gross to make something like a pregnancy feel as dirty as somebody’s one night stand.

He snatched up a box and checked the directions. He made sure to be thorough with what he understood about it. Pyro might not be cooperative enough to use this, but he might be cooperative enough to give Medic what he needed to use this. Erring on the side of caution, he grabbed several of these sticks.

Medic snatched up one of those jerky sticks on his way to the clerk. He paid close attention to his breathing, careful not to breathe too hard. One, two, one, two he counted each inhale and exhale thusly, focusing his mind so he would not become too flustered. Clerks were always too nosey for their own good.

He placed the box with the jerky on the counter. The clerk rang it up, before suddenly looking at him. It was as if the young woman was seeing him for the first time.

“Um…are you sure you’re getting the right thing?” she held the box up a little to indicate her doubt.

He raised a hand to dismiss her worries, “I’m here for a family member.”

That was always a good one. It shut the woman up rather quickly. On times when it did not, at least it made them stop questioning him. This time, he was glad it was just a test, not something like a condom where he would be squinted at or sized up for having gray hair and just enough good enough looks to make someone question how young his company might be.

“Wish men in my family were like you,” the clerk chuckled as she put the box and jerky into a paper bag.

“Oh really,” he feigned interest.

“Anytime I talk about something like that, my dad just freaks out,” she handed him the bag, “Whoever you’re getting this for is really lucky.”

“Thank you,” he gave her a brief smile before making his way out the door.

One, two, one, two, he counted his breathing again. He felt much calmer, once he was outside. It was easier to breathe out here in the almost wintry air. Once he was in his car, he felt more relaxed.

On the way back, he began to plan what he would do. It would not hurt Pyro to be tricked. Maybe Pyro would feel better not having direct access to the test. Just a simple test of his urine would give the final answer.


	4. Tired and Hungry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Work has been rough on Medic.

Medic set the paper bag by his feet as he sat down to eat the scrounged food. Nobody bothered to think about Medic, so they had left very little in the fridge. Even his own patients, who knew he did not leave the infirmary before him, had scrounged up the food and engorged themselves.

Oh well, was all he could think as he created some semblance of a meal. He probably should have remembered that nobody would save him food. He could have at least picked something up from one of the stores that would be open late at night. It was not usually healthy food, but it was better than eating little to nothing.

He did not realize that he was picking his food with his fork until he heard the throat being cleared. He flinched, scooping up some food to fill his mouth. Of course, he managed to put too much in his mouth and he felt awkward trying to chew.

“A bit late to supper, ain’t you doc?” the Engineer stepped around the table to appear in his line of sight. He looked up to meet the man’s gaze. “You went out shopping?”

Medic barely got the food down in time to end the awkward silence that followed, “Just a thing or two I don’t have in the infirmary.” If he answered vaguely, he was not lying. As long as he was not lying, nobody had any reason to get mad at him upon finding out anything.

The Engineer stepped closer as bumped the toe of his boot against the paper bag. Medic did not look down, as he did not need to confirm what the noise was. He eyed the man sideways.

“Doesn’t look like much,” the Engineer shot him a wry grin, “Could be lube and condoms in there for all anyone could guess.”

Medic found himself unable to breathe as his food came back up to choke him.

“I’m just kiddin’ ya,” the Engineer leaned a hand on the table, “Heard Sniper got an STD? You test him for that? Should probably get everybody on base tested for that. Man’s not cleanly. Nor is the whole lot of these fellas.”

Medic finally cleared his throat and coughed, “Are you suggesting blood testing everybody?”

“I’ll be down in a little while to get mine drawn,” the Engineer patted his back before silently excusing himself from the room.

Medic stared at the door, dazed by the confrontation. He was not even sure how he would have responded if he could have. The Engineer seemed like he was taking control of the situation.

There was a little insult there. There was some sort of injury. He could not understand why this happened, but he knew that it made him angry. He was not even sure why it made him angry, other than the fact that the Engineer seemed to be giving him orders to obey.

He took a deep breath and focused he let it out. He thought about his breath moving up behind him, then as he inhaled again he imagined it going down towards his feet. He did this several times, until he felt like he could not be too angry.

He finished eating and took his bag down to the infirmary. Pyro was probably going to avoid him. Whatever was on his mind, he was not going to be able to share. However, Medic had to make sure that Pyro was okay. That meant getting the masked man to pee on the stick in the box in his little paper bag.

He set the bag down on his desk as he began to ponder. Pyro might not take the pregnancy test. It may be denial or something, but Medic could not worry about the man’s pride. He did not care if Pyro was sleeping around. He did not want to think about who he might be sleeping around with. He had assumed from their previous conversations, using the cards to indicate things like gender that Pyro would likely be doing what everybody else did, visiting the usual ladies on the red light street.

He snatched the box out of the bag to look at it again. He checked the directions. They were very clear. The patient’s urine would have to be on this stick for it to test the hormone levels.

“If I had Pyro’s urine already, I would-” he cut himself off as he looked at the empty mug that he normally used for coffee. That was it! A cup! If he was more vague with Pyro, he might be willing to give a urine sample, which Medic could test from there. “That’s-” he was about to praise himself when he heard the doors open.

“Evening, doc,” he turned to see the Engineer enter with the Heavy at his heel.

“Good evening,” the big Russian man greeted with a wave of his hand.

“What brings you down here?” he asked, as he quickly tucked the test away into its bag. He did not need the Engineer reading what it was and then reading too much into what was going on.

“The test?” the Engineer said.

Medic felt his face grow hot as his hand tightened down on the bag’s opening. The Engineer’s eyesight could not possibly be that good. He had 20/20 vision, but it could not possibly be so perfect. He would need to get closer to be able to read it, would he not? He swallowed down his thoughts and simply raised his eyebrows.

“Blood test?” the Engineer pressed, pulling back his own sleeve.

“AH!” Medic exclaimed with relief rushing through his body, “Right. That’s right. You wanted to be tested for an STD.”

“You seem a mite more dysfunctional than usual, doc,” the Engineer noted.

“Not easy to function when there hasn’t been much to eat,” he grumbled. He quickly tossed the bag onto the chair behind his desk, just to be sure they could not see anything. He proceeded to the examination table to prepare vials.

“Should prepare more in the kitchen,” the Engineer hopped up onto the examination table with a grunt, “I keep a stash of potatoes where nobody thinks to look, just in case.”

“Da, is bag under sink?” the Heavy inquired.

The Engineer gave the man an incredulous look, “When did you go digging in there?”

Heavy hesitated, twiddling his thumbs, “Heavy was looking for clean brush to scrub dish.”

“We have sponges for that,” the Engineer informed him.

“Da, Heavy knows now,” the big man nodded.

“Sehr gut,” Medic inserted the needle and carefully drew the blood needed for the same tests. He did not really care about the tests, but he was too aware that the Engineer was at a higher mental caliber than most of the others. He would know if Medic skimped out on his tests.

“What?” Engineer gave him a dull glare, “I know you speak better English than our comrade here.” He gestured to the Heavy with his free hand.

“I said, that’s good,” Medic informed him pointedly.

“Sayer goot,” the Heavy tried to sound it out.

“Sehr gut,” Medic repeated, as he replaced the needle in Engineer’s arm with a cotton swab.

“Da,” Heavy slapped his knee, “Is good.”

Medic was nearly startled into poking a needle right into the muscle of Heavy’s arm when the doors creaked open. He held his composure solidly, slowly peeking over his shoulder to see who was coming in. Pyro sidled into the room, twiddling his thumbs and looking like he was having second thoughts about being there.

“Ah, if you’re here to be tested, I’ll be right with you,” the Medic said to Pyro. He thought again, and realized that he needed Pyro to go to a bathroom. He rushed to the cabinets, quickly digging through them.

“Doc?” the Engineer asked, “You ain’t finished Heavy?”

“Actually, I need a urine sample, Pyro,” he dug out a Styrofoam cup. He turned on his heel and marched to a free table to set it down. Pyro was too far away and it would be far too abrupt to bring the cup to the man himself. He quickly turned back to his patient and returned to inserting a needle. “Please put at least a quarter sample in there and bring it to my desk.”

“You ain’t testing him?” the Engineer asked, pointing towards the Pyro.

Medic could not see Pyro, but he could hear him shuffling across the room towards the cup. Good, he thought. Pyro was going to cooperate and that meant things would go swimmingly. “Eventually. When you clowns are out of the examination space. Pyro always uses the privacy curtain,” he explained rather quickly.

“Ah right,” Enginer nodded, “He’s a private feller. Ain’t he?”

“Yes, he quite likes his privacy,” the Medic explained.

“So what about the urine sample?” the Engineer inquired, “You ain’t had anybody else do that test, have ya? Seems important for something like what Sniper’s got.”

“No, it’s unrelated,” Medic said.

He could feel the heat creeping up the sides of his cheekbones. He hoped Pyro would shuffle out of here quickly. The last thing he needed was for that particular mercenary to decide to duck out on the test, just because another man was getting frighteningly close to figuring things out that Pyro did not want known.

God this was so exhausting. His job was exhausting as it was. If he was just a field Medic, he would still be tired, but maybe this would be more bearable. As is, things were not going well.

He was sick of it. He was sick of being told what to do and how to do his job. He was sick of mercenaries who thought they knew better than a professional. He was tired of being taunted about things that were not true, such as never having experience as a doctor.

The hell he didn’t! He had a license and he lost it! You do not lose a license without having had the experiences to lose it!

Doting on these men was just making everything worse. Engineer had a massive ego that Medic was forced to stroke whenever the Engineer was around. These men were constantly crying about little things, even though they could ignore large wounds like broken bones for hours. They wanted him to be focused on them and be solely dedicated to them. He had to keep the peace, just so he could do his job without one eye being swollen shut!

To top it all off, the strangeness of Pyro’s condition would mean nothing. It would be absolutely fine, if not for these men’s way of behaving and Pyro’s fear of them. Just one of them finding out the truth seemed to terrify Pyro. And if a test was going to jeopardize that secret, Pyro would absolutely go the route of getting themselves hurt or worse, just to protect his secret.

When Medic withdrew the needle, he replaced the cotton swab with a sigh. He was finding it difficult not to dissociate from the current moment, as his stomach called for his attention.

“Doc? A bandage, please?” the Engineer asked.

Medic sighed again as he fetched the adhesive bandage strips. He put one on the Engineer’s arm first then one on the Heavy’s arm. He disposed of the cotton swabs, then gestured in farewell.

“When will you know the results?” the Engineer asked.

“Heavy wants to know,” Heavy added, nodding.

“I will let you know when I know,” Medic said, waving them away. He did not want to deal with them anymore. He was tired and hungry and he wanted to be done.

“But, how long will the test take,” the Engineer pressed.

“I will let you know,” the Medic met the Engineer’s gaze with a stern look of his own, “When I know.”

The Engineer idled for just a moment. Then he started on his way. Heavy followed at the smaller man’s heels. Medic wondered if perhaps they were in cahoots. Either way, the Engineer seemed to be the brains of their operation.

It was a while before Pyro turned up. Medic was unwinding at his desk, with one of his novels. His eyes were heavy, and he was close to passing out. It was only eight thirty and he was so done with today. He could not understand what Pyro was saying, but his words were followed by the strong scent that came from a nearly full cup placed on his desk.

When Pyro’s hands left the cup, he quickly began twiddling his thumbs. He stood there, looking rather useless. He probably thought there would be more for testing.

“Thank you, Pyro,” he carefully set the cup away from his important documents, “That’ll be all for tonight. I’ll have results in the morning.”

“Okay,” Pyro seemed to say, before skipping out of the infirmary.

The moment the doors opened, Medic dove for the bag. He had almost forgotten why he had waited down here. He dug out the box and pried out the stick. It was an awkward white thing and summarily reiterated what the indicator was supposed to mean.

“Can’t be too harmful if women normally piss on it, so…” he sighed as he dunked the stick into the cup of urine.

He withdrew the stick to look at it. Nothing yet. He reminded himself that the thing would take a while to figure out the hormones.

For now, he needed to wait. He immediately regretted being underprepared. He had an unsecured cup of urine and a stick covered in pee. He did not want to be handling this with his bare hands, let alone near the things on his desk.

He rose to his feet and brought the cup over to a countertop. He set it down and fetched a cleaning towel. It would be washed later so he set the stick on the towel to wait.

He walked back to his desk, already feeling the heaviness return to his body. Before he could even sit down, he was overwhelmed by a yawn. The sleepiness encroached him in a warm solace of contentment. Work was over and he could finally go rest.

He sat down, just to wait a few minutes. He was eager to know what the results were. He was not eager to stay on his feet though. He would just wait here at his desk and check it in a few minutes. He managed to last this long, he could manage to last a little longer.


	5. Confirming the Prognosis

He was not sure what time it was when he woke up. He took a sharp breath and looked around. The infirmary was silent and just as it was when he sat down, but his eyes had been closed. He rose from his feet, unsure of how long he might have dozed off. He strolled to the towel on the counter to find the pregnancy test.

He stared at the two lines. He had been right to fetch this result. Pyro was pregnant and Medic would have to concoct some way to tell him about this. It would be difficult to handle this situation, given their occupational hazards and how this might affect Pyro. Medic wondered how he should tell him.

His eyes meandered up to a clock. He blinked and rubbed his eyes, trying to clear the bleariness. He pulled his glasses up to look again. Three am? He had dozed off until three am?

Frustrated, he spun on his heel and stormed out the door. He abandoned his work in his fit of exhausted rage. He did not make a sound, for as angry as he was, he was not about to disturb the others.

Once he was in his room, he stripped off his clothes and threw himself into bed. He was not about to worry about getting into nightwear. He would have to take a shower in the morning anyways. Maybe he would strip the sheets to wash the bedding.

He raised his head at the alarm. He reached over to slam his hand down on the clock. He wished there was a chance of backing out of work for the day. There was no chance of that. There was not even a chance to get showered, seeing as he dozed off again. His eyes opened to the clock and it was seven am, an hour since his alarm went off.

He groaned as he pushed off of the bed. He was far too late in starting his day. He would just have to wait on washing up. It would just be a simple wash of his face and a quick clean up of his hair. He grabbed one of his outfits to slip into before he slipped out into the hall. Before shutting his door he peeked at the clock. It was seven forty. He had about ten minutes to grab something to eat, stuff it in his mouth and start for the respawn room.

He made it just in time for toast. Toast was going around amongst the others. Medic stole a pair of slices and slathered them in butter before he rushed to the respawn room. The others would be along shortly. Medic was never the one to be late for the respawn though.

When the others filed in, it was with disgruntled moans at each other. It was with frustrated sighs and snappy tones as they nudged through one another. None of them seemed to understand common decency for the most part.

It was just another day at work, but when Pyro came in, Medic realized that he would have to break the news soon. He still had to work out a plan for what to do. He had to manage the handling of Pyro’s pregnancy and how they would handle Pyro being on respawn with something alive growing inside of him. Medic was not even sure if a baby would survive going through respawn. It was quite possible that Pyro’s pregnancy would become terminated within the first ten minutes of the round before he could even tell Pyro the news.

Medic opened his mouth. He wanted to say something to Pyro, but he could not think of what. There was not much he could say in front of the others. Maybe he could request that Pyro come to his office after work? He lost his chance as Pyro ran past him. He did not even have a chance to move before he realized that the room was suddenly empty.

A headache began to throb in his head. He groaned and rubbed his forehead. Three hours was not enough sleep in his bed. The sleep from before did not count, because it was in the chair and that caused him a crick in his neck and a sore pang in his back.

He rubbed his back as he stumbled out of the respawn gate. He fumbled with his medigun, grumbling in German at how stupid he was for not having followed the others immediately.

“Surprise!” a voice hissed behind him. Before he could turn around, a harsh pain stabbed in between his shoulder blades, sinking into his bones. He cried out, knowing that nobody would come to his aid.

The moment the round ended and Medic stumbled into the respawn room, he was relieved. He pulled himself onto a bench and slouched over it. He was so tired, he could lay there and fall asleep.

“What a day,” the Spy moaned, closing his fancy knife to place it in his locker.

“Yea, you could have been a bit more helpful if you weren’t hiding behind the barricade,” Scout spoke up.

Medic ignored the younger mercenary. His attention turned directly to the Pyro. He would have to tell him sooner or later. Sooner before he eventually passed out was better than later, but he knew better than to tell him here. He got to his feet and approached the masked man whose muffled words followed a finger that shook at the Scout.

“Pyro, please come to the infirmary when you can,” he said, hoping to be done with this soon. He took a breath and turned to his own locker to unload his things.

The respawn room was surprisingly silent. Medic was sure he heard whispering though. He paid no mind to the others, his throbbing headache consuming his full attention. Once he had his stuff disposed of, he hurried off to the infirmary. Hopefully, Pyro would hurry after him to get things over with.

It was not long after he had prepared himself for work in the infirmary before the doors opened. He turned around to greet the patient, and was surprised to see the engineer and the sniper. He was not entirely sure what he expected, he just did not expect them.

“Doc, did you get the tests done?” the Sniper asked.

Blood rushed away from his face as he realized how he had messed up. He was supposed to run the tests for the Sniper’s possible genital herpes. He should have started it the night before, but he had dozed off. He had nothing to show for the blood test he had required the Sniper to undergo.

He licked his lips as he thought about how he was going to be able to justify skipping over the test. He could not tell them about Pyro’s issue, let alone the results of his issue. The last thing he needed was to draw more interest towards the Pyro’s issue, given these men tended not to mind their own business.

“You had something awful important to call Pyro in for,” the Sniper’s lips turned down.

“The blood test...isn’t finished,” Medic spoke hesitantly, “Have there been any changes? Do you need more medication for relief?”

“No doc,” the Sniper’s face softened.

“Does it really take that long?” the Engineer spoke up, “How long do you need for this test, doc?”

Medic frowned at them, “Let me do my work.”

“We’re asking you to do your work,” the Engineer argued.

“I will let you know as soon the tests are done,” the Medic said sternly, “If the blood tests were ready for you, then I would have asked you here. Would I not have?”

“I don’t know, doc,” the Sniper said, a touch of irritation in his tone, “You were pretty spacey today on the battlefield. It would not surprise me if you had forgotten to run the blood tests.”

Medic breathed carefully. He took careful breaths, trying not to let on how close to the truth this statement was. He dared not swallow, knowing they would easily see his adam’s apple bob up and down.

“Well,” he breathed carefully again. His head was reminding him of how little good sleep he had had last night. He needed to get rid of these men quickly. “If you do not have new or worsening symptoms, I believe that is all for now. Come back if you have new symptoms or the rash worsens. I will let you know when the results are finished.”

“Fine,” the Sniper grunted.

“Please get it done,” the Engineer grumbled as he and the Sniper started towards the door.

Medic rolled his eyes and headed to his desk. He was halfway there when he realized he could use some coffee. Yes, this would be a perfect time to get some coffee. He turned around and started for the door. He was a step away when the doors suddenly swung open. He stopped midstep as the Pyro came face to face with him. He blinked tiredly as he tried to understand why he was here.

“Oh, Pyro,” he blinked away the grogginess.

Pyro said something muffled as he let the door swing shut. He took a couple of steps into the infirmary. His hands gestured around, but nothing made sense to Medic, especially through the muffling effect of his mask.

“Right, I need to run one last test,” he said, “I promies it won’t take long.”

Pyro let out a sigh that hissed through his mask. He slumped his shoulders as he marched over to the examination table. He hopped right up and sat there, waiting for whatever would happen.

Medic proceeded to his desk and knelt down to grab the grocery bag. He dug out one of the tests and paused with it in his hand. Pyro had refused the test before, he would probably do it again. He was not sure that the test from the night before counted if Pyro had been through respawn already. So, he needed to confirm that the result was the same. So, he set the test on his chair and proceeded to a cabinet to grab a cup. He brought it to Pyro and put it in his hand.

“I need a new fresh sample,” he instructed.

Pyro looked at the cup then back up at Medic. There was a slight tilt of his head.

“It’s the last test, I promise,” he assured Pyro, “I just want to be sure. I want to be very sure. This is something...I need to be very sure of.”

Pyro sighed, a dramatic shrug of his shoulders. He took the cup and hopped off of the table. Medic was relieved as Pyro hurried off to what he assumed was a bathroom to fill the cup in. He would just wait until he got back with a proper full cup.

A tedious knocking came at the door. “Doctor is in?” a deep voice called into the room.

Medic flinched and pushed off of the table. He had been half dozed off? Oh dear, he thought. He rubbed his eye with a knuckle before he looked at the door. The Heavy Weapons Guy was tentatively creeping into the room. He looked hesitant, as if not sure that he was supposed to be there.

“Yes? Come in,” he suppressed a groan, wishing there were no patients.

“Doctor has been quiet in here,” the Heavy said as he let the door swing shut, “Has been long time. Twenty minutes. Heavy and Soldier wait.”

“You were waiting?” Medic blinked, barely seeing through the sleepy haze anymore. It was difficult to focus.

Heavy procured a hand, which was wrapped up in an old shirt, which was dyed red. Medic took a deep breath, counting down from ten. As he reached three, he brought the patient to the examination table so he could take a better look. By the time he finished, he was unravelling the shirt from the big man’s hand.

The hand was a mangled mess, but at least the bones were in proper order. He set the Heavy on one of the beds to sit under the rays of a medigun. He did not say much and neither did the Heavy. So, he headed to the door to see if Pyro had returned.

Dread sank his stomach down to his shoes as he looked at the chairs. Soldier, Demoman, Spy and Scout were all waiting for him expectantly. He blinked at them, at a loss for what to say.

He was almost taken by surprise when the Demoman raised a ticket. It had the number one on it. He ambled to his feet and nearly ran into Medic before Medic moved out of the way.

“What seems to be the problem?” Medic asked as the doors swung shut.

“I’ve got an axe head in me back,” Demoman swayed as he turned to show off the axe buried in his back. It had missed the spine, but was embedded deep. The handle had broken away, leaving a splintered wooden thing and no leverage to remove the blade. “And,” the Demo swayed as he turned back to face the Medic, “I can’t feel my eyes!”

Medic blinked at him, “You can’t feel your eyes?”

“Yes,” Demoman nodded slowly, “I can’t feel my eyes!”

Medic opened his mouth, then closed it, “How much have you had to drink?”

“I don’t ken,” the Demoman slurred as he stumbled a step forward.

“Well, how about you lie down on the-” Medic did not get to finish what he was saying before the man slumped forward onto the floor.

On the medical bed, the Heavy gave a hearty chuckle. Medic shot him a momentary glare, before turning to his patient. He would need to remove the axe blade, but he needed the Demoman raised to work on him. If he pulled the blade out while Demoman was on the floor, he would risk more hemorrhaging while trying to get him onto a table or bed.

He looked over at the Heavy, “I don’t suppose you’re going to be of much help?”

Heavy blinked at him, then raised his damaged hand. The cuts and slices were starting to heal up, but it was far from usable yet. Blood was still dripping from it.

“Right,” he bent down and began to drag the unconscious man by his arms. His body was so tired, so he fought harder to move him to a bed.

Cuts, bruises, broken bones and teeth all lined up for his care and attention. He healed them up and hurried them off. He did not care to keep Scout around for his broken pinky. He bandaged him up and sent him off to get food. It was not his trigger finger anyways, the Administrator was not going to care.

When Pyro finally arrived with the urine cup, it was barely half full. He accepted the cup and directed Pyro to a chair. He hurried to his desk to fish out the pregnancy test. It was time for him to get the results. He placed the cup on his desk and precariously placed the test inside. To pass the time, he walked over to Pyro and pulled up a stool.

“Have you had any changes in symptoms?” he inquired. He decided to keep everything vague, since he did not want to worry the Pyro. This test could come up negative and Pyro would not have to be worried about the reality of a pregnancy, or the termination of it via respawn.

Pyro shook his head. His fingers drummed against his knees. He rocked a little bit, with his feet swaying with impatience.

“How many times did you go through respawn today?” he inquired. It was not typically relevant, but he figured the Pyro would not notice this question anyways.

Pyro hummed, tilting his head up. His fingers straightened one by one as if he was counting on them. When he looked back at Medic, he flashed all ten fingers at him.

“Ten times?” Medic asked. That was few for a long day of working at the front.

Pyro shook his head and flashed his fingers again. This time, Medic realized that he was opening and closing his hands to add ten more at a time.

“Twenty?” he asked.

When Pyro shook his head, it sounded like he said, “Nuh uh.”

“Thirty?” Medic asked.

Pyro shook his head and made the same muffled sound.

“Forty?” Medic asked, wincing as he realized how high this number was.

Pyro held up three fingers. He was soundless, watching and waiting for Medic to understand.

“Forty-three?” Medic inquired.

Pyro nodded in response.

Medic sighed, “That’s a lot.”

It sounded like Pyro’s response was a sigh and a “Uh huh.”

Medic glanced up at the clock. He would give the test a few more minutes, just in case. He did not want to look too eager as of yet. He swallowed his apprehension and turned his attention back to Pyro.

“Have there been any improvements at all?” he inquired, “In how you’ve been feeling?”

Pyro shook his head at that. He returned to thrumming his fingers against his knees. His legs swung at the knees freely.

Medic swallowed again and took a slow deep breath. He held it there, counting down from four. Three. Two. One. He let the breath out slowly and gave the Pyro a smile. It was not enough to help him, so he began to count down from ten in his head.

“Did you have more contact with particular enemies…more than others?” he asked. There was nothing to gain from this question other than to waste time.

Pyro shook his head again. He was still not very forthcoming with information.

Medic glanced at the clock again. It was a little less than a minute short of the time he wanted to give the test. Though, he decided that the time walking to the desk and pulling it out would fill in that gap. He flashed the Pyro a toothy smile as he rose to his feet.

“The test should be done now,” he strolled over to the cabinet to grab a towel. He brought it to the desk to fetch the stick with. His eyes landed on the two lines and he sighed.

He took the cup and strolled to the sink to dump it. He returned to his stool in front of Pyro with the test still in his hand. His heart was pounding hard now. His mouth felt so dry. He needed to take deeper breaths to keep his calm outwards appearance.

Pyro tilted his head, expectantly awaiting the results. He kept on thrumming his fingers and swinging his legs. He just looked so impatient to be out of this room.

“Well,” Medic began, letting the towel cover the stick in his hand. He realized it was probably not the most professional thing to show him the over the counter stick used to determine Pyro’s hormone levels. “It seems…that you are pregnant,” Medic told him, trying to keep a steady tone.

Pyro’s response sounded something like, “Huh?”


	6. Nonchalant

“You are pregnant,” Medic said it directly, but quietly. He did not want his voice to carry too much.

Again, the Pyro made a noise. This time it did not sound questioning though. Rather, Medic thought it was pensive. Pyro did not say anything, but as his attention moved downward, Medic presumed he was thinking about reality.

Medic knew many things about his coworkers. They were eight men with their own issues. He understood having issues, coping with them and especially hiding them. He had to study them to understand these men, especially to treat them better for their illnesses.

He could compare any of them. He could go through their profiles in his mind. Pyro’s particular file was fraught with danger. Identity crisis paired up with bodily dysmorphia. Even he did not have the mounting pressures that Pyro hid not just with a mask, but with a full body suit.

Ten. “I understand this is stressful.”

Nine. “I took measures to be certain without a doubt.”

Eight. “But it is beyond a doubt.”

Seven. “And I am ready to advise you on your medical treatment going forward.”

Six. “I know it’s hard for you…to communicate.”

Five. “It’s hard for you to accept coming further out.”

Four. “But I am afraid I need you to be able to voice your concerns.”

Three. “So that we may proceed with your treatment.”

Two. There was silence. Pyro’s lenses turned to him, but not a sound came out.

One. “I am willing to work with you in any way that…makes you feel comfortable.”

The countdown ended, but Medic did not feel his usual calm. Maybe he should have stopped and breathed through the counting before telling him all of this. He could feel his heart rate picking up all the while.

“I can’t just guess at yes and no questions to ask you,” he pleaded.

With a grunt, Pyro hopped to his feet. There was nothing said as Pyro trotted across the infirmary. Medic watched him go, unsure of what to do or say. Pyro was simply leaving this opportunity to discuss what was next.

Pyro turned as he opened the door. He gave a little wave before he stepped out. Medic stared as the doors swung shut.

Medic did not care about the rest of his work. Not that he was sure what else he needed to do. He had no intentions of sticking around to make sure there was nobody else to drag themselves into the infirmary. He needed sleep.

The very next day was nothing more than a day of truce. It was annoying to get ready, only to find this out at the respawn gate. He quickly returned to his room, seeing as nobody was injured. He locked the door and threw himself on the bed. Sleep was not enough sleep. He needed more sleep.

Medic’s eyes peeled open and he rolled across the bed. He reached for his glasses so he could see. They fell from his grasp partway off the bedside table and he reached over the edge to fetch them. He groaned as he put them on his face, letting his eyes see more clearly, if not for the haze of just waking up.

He finally looked at the clock. It was two o’clock. Oh dear. He had not eaten lunch and that would just make him more lethargic getting out of bed.

He forced himself up, pushing off the bed with both hands. He shifted onto his feet, surprised to find that he still wore his boots. He shifted his feet in them before he checked his reflection. His clothes were a wrinkled mess. He could stand for a morning wash. It would be a relaxing change of pace.

He grabbed a change of clothes, a small box and headed to the wash room. Typically everybody used the communal showers. They were most convenient. Everybody just typically forgot about the tub in the small room off the back of the communal showers.

As soon as he was in the room, he started a hot bath and stripped down to nothing. He opened up the box and pulled out a pinkish purple bottle. Some mercenaries would probably hang him out to dry for having this, so he rarely had a chance to use it when it was safe. Seeing as nobody would come around here at two in the afternoon, he poured half the bottle into the water so the perfume could bubble like something meant for a lady’s wash.

He dropped the bottle into the box and grabbed a smaller box. Sliding it open he pulled out one of the cigars. He replaced the rest of the cigars and fetched the match box. With a quick swipe of a match against the edge, it lit up a small flame. As he held it to the end of his cigar, he breathed deeply.

He shook the match until it went out. He set it aside with the match box so he could enjoy the cigar. He slipped into the tub and relaxed into the water. Already it was feeling more relaxing, as he put his feet up on the edge and let his head lay back against the other edge.

By the time the water cooled, Medic felt at ease. It was as if his muscles had melted around his bones. His cigar was already little more than cinders, so he put it out and tossed it aside. He let the tub start draining before he started drying off.

He felt rejuvenated a little bit. He did not necessarily feel like he could run out onto the battlefield, but he was far better than he was earlier. His muscles felt more relaxed and loose, while his body’s stretching did not come with as much resistance.

He cleaned up everything and dressed up. His stomach started to growl, reminding him that he had yet to take care of his appetite. When he strolled into the mess hall, he came upon a game of cards with most of the team surrounding the table.

Dressed down to undershirts and pants, some of them shamelessly wearing their underthings, they all focused intently on their own cards. The way they stared gave the impression that they were thinking very hard about strategy.

Medic already knew the best strategy to handle most of them. Scout was easy. He had a hard time containing his smile when he had a good hand, and so his jaw would quiver. Soldier did not know the meaning of poker face, and so his strategy flew out the window with every confident smile. The Demoman always doubled down on a serious face when he had a good hand, but if it were a bad hand he would be confused or sad. Heavy had a decent poker face, but did not have a handle on his left eyebrow twitch with interest when he realized a win. Sniper’s idea of a poker face was a sneer at anyone who looked studied his face for too long. Unfortunately for the marksman, he never realized that he was more blatant about scaring off lookers when he had a good hand. The Engineer was a calculating man with one of the best poker faces. He won much of the time not because of his poker face though, but because he could count the cards so fast and efficiently in his mind that he knew the probabilities of any given person’s chances. Spy was the hardest to read, with a face fastened so hard that it took ages to really crack what he was thinking. The real tell was not on his face, but in the way he held his cards. He held his cards more upright, with the edges tucked in to prevent anyone from spying them when they were good cards, but he was far more careless with a bad hand.

Pyro sometimes played these games too, but he was not here. Medic was not sure why it concerned him that he had mostly not seen Pyro around, but it caused him to frown. He should not be too paranoid if Pyro was not willing to participate in social situations, especially since it was common for him to skip.

He cleared his throat before he said, “Has anyone seen the Pyro recently?”

“Not seen your favorite pet, doc,” the Engineer replied, “You finished those tests yet?” He barely looked up from his hand, as his mind was probably calculating the probable outcomes in front of him.

“That thing doesn’t know how to play,” Scout laid his hand down to grab his beer and drink.

“Pyro knows how to play,” the Engineer argued, “He just likes doing things his own way.”

Medic bit back response as he proceeded to the kitchen. He looked through the fridge and cupboards, but there was not much he could mish mash for a decent meal. There was plenty of bread for on the go meals, like toast and sandwiches. He was tired of breaded meals though. He wanted something good and new.

Boots came tromping in behind him as somebody else started digging through the fridge. He did not notice him at first, but once the refrigerator door closed, his eye was caught by the bright blue suit. He gasped and turned to face the man.

“Pyro! I was hoping to talk with you,” he said, putting on a cheery tone. He wanted to sound inviting, the way his mother used to invite ladies for tea.

Pyro clutched a sandwich in one hand and the other hand waved at him in a stiff manner. It was not a greeting. It was refusal.

“Pyro, we need to discuss this,” Medic pleaded, “It is not safe to ignore and pretend like there is nothing there.

Pyro made a sound that was something like, “Nuh uh,” then he made a dash for the door. Medic leaped towards him and grabbed his arm. Pyro was forcibly spun around to face Medic.

“I know you’re uncomfortable, but this is a very-” he could barely get the words out before Pyro collapsed. He was not unconscious though, breathing heavily through the mask so he could hear it. Pyro began to curl, pulling his arms to himself and straining against Medic’s grip.

That was when the Heavy came into the room. He spared them no more than a glance before he moved on. He was not even concerned about what was going on. Medic thought that was a hideous way to behave if Pyro was being attacked, as he was in a position of vulnerability. The Heavy just proceeded to grab a sandwich from the fridge and return to the mess hall.

Once the Heavy was gone, Medic proceeded in a low tone, “Look, Pyro. This is not going away on its own. I’m trying to help you.”

Pyro was writhing and squirming for a little bit, but suddenly became still. He could see the man breathing heavily underneath his suit, each breath emitting a loud sound through his mask. Medic became horrified that Pyro may have contracted something in his lungs.

“Pyro?” he knelt to listen closely for any changes, “Are you alright? Do you have an infection in your lungs?”

When there was no response, he carefully set Pyro’s arm down. He carefully crouched, to avoid hurting his back, as he scooped the Pyro under his arms and behind his knees. He pulled into a tighter ball, refusing to relax from his tense position.

He carefully maneuvered out the door and past the men playing cards in the mess hall. Nobody took notice or glanced for even a moment at what was happening.

He carried Pyro to the infirmary, surprised that his own arms never gave out. He carefully placed Pyro on a bed and pushed it to the X-ray area. It would be out of the way here and he could easily draw the curtain around it. He did just that, making a private place for Pyro to hopefully calm down from whatever happened.

He fetched equipment and brought it with a table on wheels to the Pyro’s bedside. Pyro remained curled up, trying to make himself as small as possible. All the while, his heavy breathing was evident from the suit’s movement and the sounds from the mask.

He pulled on the zipper on the back of the suit. Pyro whimpered and shivered. He gently pressed the end of his stethoscope to Pyro’s back. Pyro was shaking and taking shallow breaths, he could not listen to his lungs clearly.

“Come on, Pyro. I need you to breathe deeply,” he coaxed.

As he rubbed Pyro’s arm, the trembling shake that followed gave him a shock. Pyro was sobbing, shaking and trembling. He pulled his arms up over his head and pulled his legs up tighter to his stomach.

“I know it’s hard for you but…please?” Medic pleaded.

There was no luck in unrolling the Pyro from his tight little ball. He was holding tightly to his head and tensing against any touch. He was not even going to try to take a simple breath.

“Pyro…” he removed his stethoscope and zipped the back of the suit.

It was always hard to tell what was going on underneath that suit. It was hard to communicate and impossible to do any work with it on. All he could do for now was pull up a stool and sit down to wait.

He waited until three. Pyro did not respond. He had quieted down, but no matter how much Medic tried to coax he would not budge.

He waited until five. Again, Pyro was not budging from the position he had taken. He seemed like he was determined to remain in this position until he either passed out or the Medic was gone. He decided to try going outside for a little while, maybe that would calm Pyro down.

After about half an hour, he returned to the infirmary. Pyro had relaxed a bit, but quickly stiffened when he realized that Medic had returned. Medic returned to his stool with a sigh.

At about half past six, Pyro started to cry again. This time, Medic was paying better attention and realized what the noises and movements meant. Pyro cried until he could apparently cry no more.

At eight o’clock, Medic went to get food. On his way there, he saw some other mercenaries but he made no attempts to socialize with them. He could not explain to them what he was dealing with anyways. It was hard knowing that he could not turn to them for a moment of solace.

After fetching couple of sandwiches, he returned to the infirmary. He set one by Pyro’s bed and let him know who it was for. Then he returned to his stool to eat his own sandwich.

At a quarter past nine, he heard the Pyro shuffle. He moved into a slightly new position as he grew uncomfortable. However, he refused to budge out of a tense and defiant position.

At ten o’clock, a knock came at the door. Medic drew the curtain around the bed to block the Pyro from sight. The door came open before he could call out, which made him glad he closed the curtain quickly. He turned to find the Engineer, who strolled right over to the examination table to sit down.

“Herr Engineer!” he greeted him with a smile, albeit a tired one, “What brings you here?”

“Gotta know about the test results, doc,” the Engineer pressed.

Medic lost his grin, “They are not ready yet.”

“Well, what have you been doing all day? It’s a free day. You’ve had time to work on it!” the Engineer said scornfully.

“Engineer, do I come to your workshop and tell you when to be finished with your work?” the Medic placed his hands behind his back.

“My work don’t concern you,” the Engineer growled.

“And neither does mine. I have already told you. When I have the results, I will let you know,” the Medic directed him out the door.

It was midnight when Medic sat down. He had been pacing, half to try and figure out what to do and half trying to stay awake. He was too tired to stand. He was too tired to stay moving.

He jumped with a yelp for what seemed like no reason. He thought perhaps it was a bad dream. He immediately yawned and looked around. Pyro was still on the bed, but from what he could tell the man was fast asleep.

With a sigh he sat back down. There was nothing he could do with Pyro asleep. He was no maniac with a penchant for waking his coworkers to frightening things.

He glanced at the clock. It was a quarter until two in the morning. He could not just leave the Pyro unattended in the infirmary with the infirmary door either locked or unlocked. Either scenario was a bad idea. So he settled himself down on a bed to wait.

Medic looked at the clock. It was only half past three. He was so tired, but he could not sleep. Now sleep escaped him, holding out from his grasp. He stretched his arms above his head and tried to relax, breathing carefully and counting how long he took each one in hopes of calming his body to a more restful state. He eventually lowered his arms, having sufficiently stretched.

Medic was disturbed by a stir. He heard scraping and movement. He rolled off the bed and trotted across the room. He stopped himself short of opening the curtains as the noises halted.

“Pyro?” he asked softly.

His eyes glanced up at the clock. It was just five minutes past four o’clock. He groaned internally. He could not believe how long this night had been. He had a bad feeling that it was not going to get better.

There was another scraping sound. He listened carefully, wishing he could see what was happening. He was worried by a lack of verbal response, even if it was muffled by a mask.

A voice came from the other side of the curtain. A crisp clear voice with a tired edge. The vocal pitch was a bit high, almost enough to mistake for a child. It was the first time Medic had ever heard this voice.

“You’re not taking this child, Medic.”

He froze. It felt like he had been struck with ice water. Unlike the films where a bucket of water could wake a man from a dead stupor, he was left stock still. He could not bring himself to say anything as he listened to the tiny voice.

“I’m keeping this baby. And neither you nor the Administrator can do anything about it!” that last part was gasped out like a dare.

Medic took a deep breath. He counted down from ten slowly. He closed his eyes, taking deep slow breaths. When he opened his eyes, he took a breath to speak.

“Pyro, I’m not taking anything from you,” he said firmly.

There was silence on the other side of the curtain. He hesitated, wishing for Pyro to do or say something.

“You’re not going to cut it out of me?” Pyro’s question was so timid he almost gasped because…it was sort of cute.

“I _want_ to talk to you about what you want to do about it,” Medic explained, “I _wanted_ to know if you wanted to keep it. Now, we can move forward with your care.”

He rubbed his eyes, pushing up his glasses as he thought about what to do. He would need a lot of special care. He could not guarantee the Administrator would go along with everything. He thought she might be a fool enough to publicize something for the Spy or somebody else to discover about Pyro. He was also not sure she would cooperate with his request for special medication related to a condition such as this.

“We need to get you on prenatal,” he explained, “But it may be a bit of a task to get that. Fortunately, there may be a pharmacy where I can get my hands on that.”

There was a muffled sound before boot steps. He lowered his glasses back onto his nose, just in time to see the Pyro pull the curtains aside. The Pyro was the same behind that placid mask.

“I’m glad we’re on the same page then,” he offered a smile and patted Pyro’s shoulder.

“Uh huh,” was the sound that Pyro seemed to make.

He gestured to the door, “Head to bed and get some proper sleep.”

Pyro nodded as he started on his way to the doors of the infirmary. He made a gesture like he was yawning.

“We have a long day of work tomorrow,” he explained.

When the doors swung shut and he was alone, he looked to the clock again. It was a quarter past four. He would not get much sleep anyways, so he might as well get to work on the results for the blood tests the Engineer was so desperate to know about.


	7. Rashes and Rashes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Medic discovers a widespread outbreak of rashes among his coworkers. He is thoroughly disgusted.

At the morning wait at the respawn door, Medic addressed the group as a whole, “The lot of you have been tested and your tests are finished. After work, please come by my office to discuss the results.” He spun on his heel to face the door, waiting as the countdown began.

“Why can’t you just tell us now if we’re negative or positive?” the Sniper spoke up.

“Because that would be breech in patient doctor confidentiality, and you wouldn’t want the whole team to know if you had genital herpes or not, would you?” the Medic swung his head around to look at the ridiculous glare as it turned into outright surprise and disgust.

“You have herpes?” the Scout asked aloud.

“No, I don’t!” the Sniper barked loudly.

“See? That’s why you come see me at my office!” Medic announced as he readied his medigun.

“Three…two…one,” the door flung open and they charged out.

The day was rough and Medic dragged himself into the infirmary with the wish he had a duplicate. One more Medic around would have been able to help him out. He was not as chipper as he had made himself out to be this morning. It had been like dragging weights to bring his body anywhere. His eyes just wanted to close the entire time they were working, even with explosions in his ears and gun blasts in his face.

His greatest blunder had been not getting enough sleep prior to work. He had been blown up, blasted across the battlefield, punched to death, thrown over a cliff to a painful drop, and most often shot down. It was a miserable day full of death and he did not manage to keep anyone alive, not even himself.

He dragged himself into his office with his arm weakly holding onto the medigun, while the other was half stiff and half useless at his side. A gash that sliced into the tendons of the shoulder joint was still dripping blood down his side and sleeve. A trail of droplets followed in his wake as he headed for the cabinets of first aid. By this point he was numb to the pain, especially the throbbing of the bullets in his foot.

He dug out supplies to wrap himself up and keep himself from bleeding out. He could just respawn, but he did not have the stomach for it. Besides, an hour under the medically healing rays of a medigun sounded like a relaxing time. So, he activated an overhanging medigun and laid himself out on a bed to soak in the rays.

Suddenly, he opened his eyes and he was in respawn. He remembered laying down. He probably dozed off. The medigun should have at least kept him alive, if not have healed most of his wounds. Why was he now standing in respawn?

He made his way back to the infirmary, without injury or harm. He was still sleepy, which pulled yawns out of him. When he came around the corner to the doors, he found the waiting area full. Every mercenary was sitting there, waiting for his attention. They all turned to look at him expectantly.

“About time you showed up, maggot!” the Soldier barked.

“We’ve been waiting here for hours!” the Scout whined.

Medic looked at the clock and was unable to suppress a surprised grunt. He had only laid himself down for a healing nap fifteen minutes ago. At most, he had maybe twelve minutes under the healing rays before he died. He did not know how he could have died though. He had no damage to major arteries that could have bled out so fast.

“Whilst you were napping,” the Demoman pointed at him, “We’ve been waiting here.”

“It’s literally been fifteen minutes since I tended to my injuries!” Medic pointed at the clock.

“Rest of us don’t have all day, mate,” the Sniper answered curtly.

“Can we get this over with?” the Scout demanded.

“Fine,” the Medic growled as he stomped past them.

He entered the infirmary and went to the bed where he had laid down. He was reaching up to turn the medigun off when he noticed an extra pillow on the bed. A quick glance revealed it was from a neighboring bed. It had not been there before.

As he turned the medigun off, he stared at the spot he had been laying in. There was just a little blood from his foot and his shoulder. It had not been enough to die from within twelve minutes of being under the medigun. Somebody came in here and suffocated him with the intention of hurrying him along.

He turned and stomped to the door. He put on his best grin, forcing it as wide as he could. It took all of his effort not to laugh as he shouted, “Who is first?”

His question was answered by the Scout hopping to his feet and trotting into the infirmary. He had that cocky swagger he always kept. In one hand was his number ticket and in the other was an unopened, brightly colored can of bonk.

“Alright, so you’re gonna tell me what the test results are?” Scout was smiling as he turned to the Medic.

“Top the examination table,” he pointed, “I need you to drop your pants.”

“Drop my pants?” Scout laughed, “Doc, this ain’t no silly porno. Let’s keep it professional and shit.”

“Drop. Your. Pants.”

Scout lost his smile as he started on his belt. He pulled the belt away and set it on the examination table before working off his pants. They dropped to his ankles, leaving him in loose white under shorts.

“There? You happy? Pants are down,” Scout folded his arms defiantly.

Medic rolled his eyes, “You’re going to have to do one better.” He pointed to the boxer shorts Scout was wearing. “Take those off too.”

“You gonna clue me in on what’s going on?” Scout asked.

Medic pointed wordlessly. He had no patience. He had no energy. He needed to get this done quickly and was about ready to pull the underthings off of Scout himself.

“Fine! Fine!” Scout threw his hands up before he pulled his underpants down.

Medic was not expecting anything out of the ordinary. In fact, this was just to make Scout’s face a little red. But seeing now that there was something off, Medic fetched a popsicle stick and pulled up a stool. He sat down and used the stick to distance his hands from Scout’s privates.

“It’s…um…pretty cold in here…huh?” Scout said with nervous chuckles.

He was glad he was having gloves as he eventually did need to use his fingers to get a better look. By the time he was finished, Scout was halfway to an erection and the youth was stiffer than it. He did not give it a second thought, aware of how the body tended to react to touch within this region.

“It’s…um…I’m definitely not turned on,” Scout said, “You’re just touching too much.”

Medic did not dignify the patient’s words with any response. He quickly discarded off the stick and his gloves. He went digging and grabbed a tube of rash cream.

“I am finished,” he told Scout over his shoulder.

“Thank God!” Scout exclaimed as he quickly pulled up his clothes.

He returned to Scout and put the tube of cream in his hand, “You have no diseases. However, you have a severe rash around your genitals. I don’t know what you’ve been doing. No more rigorous frictional activity in that area until all signs of the rash have cleared. Apply this two to three times a day. You may apply a bit more if you start to feel burning or itching.”

“I…you’re not even gonna ask me why I didn’t…uh…show you?” Scout was swallowing his guilt.

Medic rolled his eyes, “No, because I know why.”

“Uh…” Scout looked at the tube’s label and tried to read it aloud.

“We’re done here,” Medic dismissed him, “Move along.”

He followed Scout to the doors and threw them opened. He took a breath and let out a bellow, “Next patient!”

In came the Soldier without hesitation. Medic waited until the doors were closed before he made the same request as he had with Scout. He did not actually know why Scout had not told him about his symptoms before. But like a disease, where one man kept a health problem a secret, there were bound to be more.

Soldier had no problem stripping off his pants. In fact, he put them in a pile with his shirt, boxers socks and boots. He added his helmet to the top of the pile before turning to Medic proudly.

Medic rolled his eyes as he pulled up his stool. Soldier had the same issue as Scout. Though, just to make it seem that he was doing his job, he took a closer look anyways. Fortunately, he did get a rise out of Soldier, right around the time his cock started to rise. Thankful that the Soldier was fully embarrassed, he went to fetch another tube of rash cream to give him.

He gave Soldier the same instructions and directed him to the door. The man did not think to get dressed, and instead held his clothes under one arm and his helmet over his crotch as he marched out of the infirmary. Medic thought he would have to bleach his eyes toe very get hat sight out of his mind.

He groaned as he stepped to the door and said, “Next!”

Demoman came lumbering into the infirmary. He did not look drunk, but he did look worse for wear. He had a clear injury on his leg and appeared to be barely standing up. He looked as shitty as Medic felt when it came to exhaustion.

“Doc, please put me out of my misery,” Demo gave a moan as he lifted his injured foot and pointed to it.

“You want me to send you through respawn?” the Medic asked.

“No!” the Demoman barked, “Just…gimme some help, doc. Please!” He clasped his hands together and dropped to his knees. He burst into sobs as the man realized his mistake and doubled down over the floor in pain.

Medic sighed and grabbed the Demoman by his arms. He dragged him to a bed, the one beside where he had laid down. He stuffed a pillow behind the man’s head, then a pillow under his leg. He turned the medigun on and directed it onto the Demoman.

“Now, I do need you to remove your pants,” he gestured to the Demoman’s belt buckle.

“I haven’t the energy for a romp, doc,” the Demoman said in protested.

Medic blinked at him, “Pardon me? What?”

“I said I haven’t the steam for a round on the donkey,” the Demoman gave him a tired frown with furrowed and upturned eyebrows.

“I’m not having sex with you,” Medic replied, “I need to check your genitals.”

“Oh,” Demoman blinked in surprise, “Why didn’t you say so?”

Medic rolled his eyes and headed to the cabinet to fetch the gloves and stick. He grabbed the rash cream and stuffed it into a pocket. He was sure he would need to give this to the Demoman as well as the others so he put enough for the rest in his pocket.

When he returned, the Demoman already had his underpants around his ankles. He pulled up his shirt a bit to expose his bellybutton, where a trail of course dark hair trailed down to his manhood.

“Should have worn my kilt today,” the Demoman chuckled.

“What made you think I would be propositioning you for sex during medical care in the infirmary?” Medic asked, as he bent over his patient. He needed to look closely and be sure of what he saw, because he was very used to seeing skin his own color, but not as used to the Demoman’s skin color. He did not want to make a mistake because of his eyes.

“Well, you’re gay, aren’t you?” the Demoman asked curtly.

Medic’s face lit aflame as it all hit him at once. His head whipped around to look at the Demoman’s face. The man was peering down with curiosity at what Medic was doing. He turned his eyes up to meet Medic’s gaze.

“I don’t mind it,” Demoman said, “What a man likes, a man likes. Though I’ll admit you’re not my type. I prefer a beautiful little thing in skirts…with a nice round bossom.” He cupped his hands over his own chest. “Nice curves and the like. I guess if you were to put on a skirt and some make up, I’d be willing to do ye. I’m not a catcher though, I’m a pitcher. Or at least that’s how Scout says.”

Medic was not sure his face could burn any hotter. He kept his eyes off of the man’s face, while he was poking around looking for signs of a rash. He cursed his eyes, thinking maybe he was being fooled by not recognizing some change in skin color here.

“Have you had any itching or burning recently?” Medic asked.

“What? Where? Down there?” Demoman peered back down as his cock rose to full size. He gave out a laugh, “Nae! I’m fit as a fiddle there. I tell ya! I won’t protest to ya making sure I am. But I haven’t had an itch or nothing.”

“Have you been sexually active?” Medic pulled away and disposed of the gloves and popsicle stick.

“Recently? No,” the Demoman admitted, “But you didn’t hear that from me. The whole lot thinks I’ve been screwing the ladies in town. I prefer the reputation than to actually go and catch something. I hope the rest of them haven’t caught anything.”

“Well, your blood tests came back clean, and you seem to be clear of any rash,” he turned away as the Demoman covered himself to make himself decent, “Once you’re finished under the medigun, you’re free to go.”

“Thank you, doc,” the Demoman as he relaxed on the bed.

Medic stomped to the doors as he realized his defeat. Demoman could not be ashamed of anything. And with a man who had no shame on the battlefield came a man with no shame about his manhood. It probably helped that he did not have a rash to be worried about.

Medic threw the doors open and bellowed, “Next!”

“Where’s the Demo?” Sniper paused as he got slowly to his feet.

“He unfortunately has an injury that requires more in house attention,” the Medic responded, “He’ll be on his way eventually.”

“What about that doctor patient confidentiality stuff?” the Sniper narrowed his eyes at Medic.

The Heavy spoke up with a shrug, “Is Demo. He will not gossip about pee pee problem.”

The Sniper rolled his eyes, “Thanks. You’re not helping.”

“We have a privacy screen,” Medic assured him, before slipping into the infirmary. While he waited for his patient to finally come, he pulled the privacy screen from the X-ray area to accommodate his next patient.

When the Sniper finally came to the examination table, Medic gestured to his pants. “You’ll need to take those off.”

With a sigh, Sniper proceeded to take his pants down with his underwear in one go. Medic grabbed new gloves and a fresh stick before he returned with his stool. He sat down to inspect it and was disappointed to see that there was very little progress in recovery.

“Well? Mate?” the Sniper pressed, watching him poke around.

The Medic frowned as he disposed of the stick and gloves. He shook his head, “Your blood tests came back negative. However, the rash cream should have done better than this.”

“The bloody hell? It’s rash cream! It’s a rash isn’t it?” the Sniper gestured to his exposed dick.

Medic nodded, “It _is_ a rash. However, you may have been spreading the rash unknowingly. Have you been washing your hands after you apply it?”

“I’m pretty sure I have,” Sniper gave a noncommittal grunt.

“Have you been taking a piss without washing your hands at all?” Medic asked.

Sniper suddenly started scratching one of his palms, “Maybe uh…once or twice.”

Medic frowned as he noticed the itching, “Have you been sexually active?”

Sniper’s face turned bright red at that. He swallowed, staring at Medic hard. It looked like he was trying not to give anything away.

“Well…not with a partner,” the Sniper shook his head.

“Oh good, so you’ve been spreading it to your hand?” he gestured to the hand that Sniper was scratching.

“Ah…well…you got me there,” Sniper raised his hand and pulled back the sleeve. The red spread up from his palm and up his forearm. It looked like he had scratched sores all the way up to his elbow.

Medic almost jumped back, sickened by this. Not because it was a rash, nor because of how it got there. No, this man had been shaking hands, slapping hands, patting backs, picking up odd objects and touching everything. No wonder everybody on base had a rash, they contracted it from the Sniper and unknowingly spread it to their privates.

“You, sir are patient zero,” Medic looked on with awe.

“The hell does that mean?” Sniper frowned at him.

“It means, you’re going into quarantine until you can learn how to be hygienic!” the Medic raised his voice.

“We don’t have a quarantine,” the Sniper argued.

“We will now!” the Medic rushed to snatch up a blanket and made a mad dash for the Sniper. Before the man could react, Medic threw the blanket over his head and wrapped his arms around him. He struggled with the writhing man, pulling him to the beds.

“Let go! Get off of me!” the Sniper grunted under the blanket.

Medic wrestled him onto the bed. Without much thought he grabbed the man’s arms and quickly lashed him to the bed. With the man’s lanky legs kicking, it would be hard to keep him under control, so he grabbed each boot, threw it aside and lashed the man’s ankles down.

“The hell is going on?!” the Demoman exclaimed.

“I’m just containing a medical risk,” Medic pulled the blanket down to expose the angry Sniper’s face, while keeping the rest of him covered.

“You can’t just keep me here like a prisoner!” Sniper bellowed.

“The hell did he do?” Demoman asked.

“I can’t specify,” the Medic replied simply, “But I suggest you not touch him.”

He held his hands away from himself as he went to the sink. He was careful to touch nothing with his hands before the water started running over them and he scrubbed them with sanitizing soap.

Dear lord he hoped washing as soon as he was would prevent a rash on his own skin. He did not want to _have_ to take the precautions needed to prevent a spread. However, he was entirely willing to do so to prevent what the others had managed to do to themselves.

“You’re the one who went poking and prodding!” the Sniper yelled, “I only wanted the blood test results!”

“I gave you rash cream,” Medic replied, “Have you been using it?”

“Yes!” Sniper writhed against his makeshift shackles.

“Twice a day?” Medic pressed.

“Yes!” Sniper repeated.

“Then it shouldn’t have spread so far. It _should have_ started recovering. Instead, you have spread it so far that-” he cut off, eyeing the Demoman warily. He should not be saying anything about the Sniper’s condition with this man present. “We will discuss further when I am done with other patients. For now, stay there and be quiet.”

He stomped to the door and yelled for the next person. The Heavy came strolling in and paused with some distance between Medic and himself. He gestured to his shoulder and said, “Heavy has rash.”

“You have a rash?” it was not really a question, because he was not surprised.

Heavy nodded, “Do not know how, but back is itchy. Heavy thinks is red rash.”

“Come, let’s have a look,” Medic gestured for him to follow to the examination table.

After drawing the curtain around, he turned to the Heavy. The man stripped off his vest, button up and under shirt. The reveal was a hideous red rash that spread diagonally from his right shoulder and ending short of his left hip. He gaped at the hideous mark, seeing as this was the biggest and worst rash he had seen yet today.

“Heavy…” was all he could manage as he slowly went to fetch new gloves. He did not have to touch to see the man’s back clearly. But he would take no more risks.

“Heavy is not sure how, but does not like itch,” the Heavy seemed like he was pleading for relief.

“I need to make sure there hasn’t been further spread,” Medic explained as he pulled on his new gloves, “Rest of it off. Let’s have a look.” He fetched a new popsicle stick, glad that this patient did not put up a fuss in getting as naked as Soldier had.

He turned back to his patient and began inspection. Thankfully, like the Demoman, it seemed everything below the Russian’s waist was clean. There was not even a worrying red color. Just to be sure, he checked Heavy’s legs and arms, before he was sure about his assertion.

“Alright, we are done,” Medic tossed the gloves away and quickly replaced them with new ones. “You can put your pants on, but I’m going to apply some cream on your back.” He pulled a tube of the rash cream from his pocket to show the man.

Heavy nodded as he pulled on his pants. When he had them zipped up, he settled on the small stool that Medic typically sat on. Medic spread some cream across the fingers of his glove, before he began to apply it to the red area. The big man seemed to relax, eased by the cooling sensation of the cream and the stimulation of the man rubbing the irritated skin. Medic did his best to be gentle, so as not to further irritate the skin, but some areas still felt itchy to the Heavy.

“Alright,” Medic sighed, “Be sure to wash your shirts often. Don’t rub against anything.”

“Da,” Heavy agreed as he began putting on his shirt.

“Due to its location, perhaps you will need assistance applying it,” Medic thought aloud as he changed his gloves, “Be sure to come to me twice again to apply it thoroughly. I’ll give you a tube so you can try applying it when it gets irritated. However, this is a very large rash, the cream needs to be used on all of it.”

When he returned to Heavy with fresh gloves on his hands, he held out a tube of rash cream. He cleared his throat and pulled the curtain open. He was glad that at least one of his patients did not seem to have gotten a rash for gross reasons. The rash had spread beyond where the Heavy’s hands reasonably reached, after all.

“Remember not to scratch and wash your hands regularly,” he rolled his eyes at himself for not telling all of his patients this up front. Then again, they should have known not to scratch rashes and to regularly practice hygiene.

“Thank you,” Heavy said before he strolled out of the infirmary.


	8. Too Much Spread

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The spread of rashes is out of control and Medic is just about done with his coworkers' unhygienic lifestyles.

When Medic approached the door, he found his last two patients arguing in loud whispers. They were hissing at each other, practically spitting. When Medic cleared his throat, they both looked at him with the same nasty glares they had trained on each other. He would have felt like he was stepping into venomous snake territory if this had been their first week of working together. Though, that was why one should always wear boots, so one could stomp on an attacker’s head.

“Doctor, since the laborer is the cause of my woes, I’m going before him,” the Spy quickly started towards the doorway.

“Not a chance! I have the next number!” the Engineer waved a ticket in the air.

“I’m not waiting to get this taken care of,” the Spy insisted as he proceeded past Medic into the infirmary.

“Like hell you’re not!” the Engineer charged in after him, “It’s my turn!”

“You’ll have to wait for it,” the Spy said coolly.

Medic let the doors swing shut. He glanced at his other patients to find that they were both silently enthralled with the drama unfolding. The Sniper forgot all about fussing with the lashes holding him down.

“I got here first and I’m taking my turn first!” the Engineer barked, “I don’t even think you got your blood drawn. You didn’t come near the infirmary yesterday.”

The Spy rolled his eyes, “This has nothing to do with your STI, laborer.”

“You two need to come to an agreement now,” the Medic warned.

“Doc, I have the next number!” the Engineer held up his ticket again.

“My problem was caused by _him_!” the Spy gestured to the Engineer with a hand.

“If you will not concede to one another…” the Medic grabbed a saw. His head was starting to throb and they were not going to be the last of his work.

“I think I’ve uh…finished healing,” the Demoman crawled off the bed, “Thanks doc. I’m just going to head out of your hair.” Thankfully he was walking straight enough that he did not have life threatening injuries. So, Medic let him go on his way.

“Doc, I have been asking for those blood results,” the Engineer insisted, “You know it’s gotta be my turn.”

“Not after what you’ve done!” the Spy spat.

Medic pointed the saw at each of them, “I can either pick with an old English rhyme one of you to send to respawn, or you can both shut up and go sit on the examination table.”

“You mean share the same space with the laborer?” the Spy sniffed.

“He don’t need to know my blood results, doc,” the Engineer pointed a thumb at the Spy.

“Fine,” Medic started towards them. He had not made up his mind yet on what rhyme he wanted to use. Maybe something Americans used for picking things.

The Spy sighed, “Fine. It’s not like I’ll be exposing myself or anything.”

“Doc, as long as you don’t let _him_ hear about my results, it’s fine,” the Engineer conceded at last.

Medic pointed to the examination table with his saw, “Go sit.”

He placed the saw on a countertop. He was glad he kept it around. Nobody liked death, regardless of respawn. It was a horrible evil they would reserve for battle. Else they would likely not all be coming to him for the injuries that respawn could easily take care of.

When he approached the table, he traded out his gloves for new ones. The two men had turned their backs to each other. The Engineer sat with a slight slump in his posture on the table. The Spy on the other hand remained standing with his back turned to the Engineer.

“Where shall I start,” he started to regret the situation already. Spy was typically secretive and getting him out of his pants was going to be a struggle without the Engineer present.

The Spy started rolling up a sleeve, “The laborer grabbed my arm this morning and it has developed into a rash.”

Medic was glad to see that the rash was relatively small, despite wrapping around his forearm. It looked almost like a handprint and did match the Engineer’s hand size well enough.

“Do you have a rash anywhere else?” Medic avoided touching the infected area.

“Non,” the Spy replied curtly, “I just need some rash cream for this.

“Just a moment,” Medic sat on the stool and moved around to the front of the Engineer, “You’ll need to remove your pants.”

The Texan’s face bloomed as red as the rashes he had been seeing. “What? What the hell for? I ain’t taking my pants off, doc!”

The Medic could hear the Spy’s wry snickering nearby. He said nothing and simply gestured to the belt around the man’s waist, “Off. Now.”

“Not happening,” the Engineer shifted his position.

“Spy, would you mind waiting on the other side of the screen?” the Medic inquired.

“I only need the rash cream!” the Spy exclaimed loudly enough for the Sniper to have heard. He seemed to have forgotten the other man in the room by now. “Just give me the cream and I’ll leave!”

“Now now,” Medic gestured for him to settle down, “You agreed to share the appointment. You’ll share. Besides. I’m not done with your inspection.”

“Fine,” the Spy growled through clenched teeth. He clenched his hands at his sides as he stepped around the curtain.

Medic turned back to the Engineer, “Pants.”

“I’m not taking them off,” the Engineer argued.

“You need a full inspection before I’m releasing you,” the Medic said firmly. He had seen enough rash infections for the day to know that the Engineer was bound to have one. Health risks were everywhere today.

“I know my rights, doc,” the Engineer folded his arms, “Honestly thought you knew better. Probably wouldn’t be too pleased with the unethical practice of getting a man’s pants down to check him out.”

Medic frowned at the Engineer as he relaxed on his stool, “Last I checked, it’s a crime punishable by the highest law in America to kill a man. However, you do that every day. Honestly thought you knew better about the laws regarding unlicensed production of weapons.”

The Engineer frowned as he hopped to his feet. He had a strange and hardened look as he undid his belt. He kept his glare trained on the Medic, never glancing once at what he was doing. He tried to keep a locked gaze with Medic as he removed his pants and then let his underpants follow.

Medic’s eyebrows rose at the hideous appearance. From the knees up, a rash had spread around the front and insides of the man’s thighs. It did not stop at his privates, stretching up to his belly. He shot out of his seat and pulled up on the front of the man’s shirt to see. The protests and struggling was met with silence as Medic studied the pattern that wrapped over the belly and became a spattering of smaller rashes across the man’s upper torso.

“The hell are you doing?!” the Engineer gave him a shove. Medic immediately felt disgusting, seeing as the man likely had rashes on his hands.

“This…you’ve had this enormous rash? No wonder you were freaking out over blood tests!” Medic exclaimed.

“This all blooms halfway through work,” the Engineer argued, pushing down his shirt, “It’s from the heat.”

“This is not from the heat,” the Medic said, sitting back down on his stool, “You have an infection on a large portion of your skin. You thought this was from heat?”

“It’s just a classic example of a heat rash,” the Engineer shrugged as he pulled up his pants.

“You fool!” the Medic shouted. He was sure the Sniper and the Spy heard that.

“The hell are you yelling for?” the Engineer hissed.

“This rash is massive!” the Medic replied a bit more quietly, “It’s not from heat either. Heat can exasperate the irritation, but you clearly have a severe infection. And to add to that, you’ve spread it to others.”

He pulled the last tubes of rash cream from his pocket and tossed them onto the examination table, “The lab results came back clean. You’re free of STIs, but you’re all disgustingly unhygienic. Apply this to every part of the rash twice a day. Wash your hands regularly. Do not touch, rub, itch or scratch anything. I mean nothing. If you need to take a piss, use a pair of gloves. Go bleach everything you’ve touched. I know you’ve been touching literally everything in your workshop.”

The Engineer growled as he took the tubes of rash cream. Once he had his clothes settled he stormed out of the infirmary. The Spy returned, slipping around the curtain like a curious feline.

“Well, that did not go so well,” the Spy commented, “Did it?”

“Due to what I’ve seen so far, I need you to take your pants off,” the Medic told him firmly.

The Spy sighed, “You aren’t being serious, are you? You think I have any association with them that would lead to that?”

“Spy, I have no mood to deal with you,” the Medic said firmly, “I have seen enough of this spread to know for a fact that you are no less guilty than the rest. You have already shown me that you have the same rash. Now show me.”

He was genuinely shocked when the Spy did take his pants off and dropped his boxers with them. Medic changed out his gloves and grabbed a popsicle stick. He sat down to inspect the man’s skin and found nothing in the way or rashes or infections. When he was finished, he removed his gloves and threw them away. He fetched a new tube of rash cream and brought it to the Spy who was returning his pants to his waist.

“Apply this twice a day,” the Medic instructed.

“I hope you had a good look,” the Spy taunted with a smile, “Because you’re not getting that again.”

“Honestly, I was surprised you did not put up more of a fight,” the Medic gestured.

“As it was, I was starting to suspect it wasn’t a rash and you would have found something I had not noticed. These men are unhygienic, but gloves help with more than just avoiding fingerprints.”

“Right,” Medic said, “You’re lucky you’re clean. Wash your hands regularly. Don’t scratch it. And…I would avoid touching anything with your hands or gloves until the rash passes.”

“You make it sound like it’s a more dangerous illness,” the Spy pressed.

“It’s not so much dangerous as it seems to be aggressive,” Medic explained, “Take care of yourself, Spy.”

“Doctor,” the Spy lowered his voice a bit.

“Yes?” Medic waited, trying not to show his impatience.

“Not now, but at a future date, I would like to have blood tests done,” the Spy requested.

Medic raids an eyebrow, “You are worried about STIs now?”

The Spy shook his head, “I have been feeling rather…lethargic lately. And I mean the late few months. As it has run in my family, I fear I may be suffering from chronic low blood sugar. I’m not sure what the term for this is.”

Medic nodded, “Go eat. Keep a snack in your pocket from now on. When you feel this lethargy, eat something.”

“The blood tests, Medic?” the Spy pressed.

“We will do at a later date,” Medic assured him.

With a nod, the Spy retreated. He waited for the Spy to be gone, before turning to the Sniper. He first fetched a few things before coming to the bedside. He undid the lashings to free him.

Tired and disgruntled, the Sniper sat up and rubbed his arms. He glared at Medic irritably. Medic simply ignored the look on his face in favor of making sure he got his point across.

“You have been one of the most careless and unhygienic coworkers,” the Medic explained.

“Sure sure,” the Sniper rolled his eyes.

“I am not joking,” Medic snapped, “You have a serious problem. And now it’s persisting.” He placed a tube of rash cream and a box of latex gloves on the bed.

“I already have the rash cream, doc,” the Sniper protested.

“Use it more liberally,” the Medic instructed, “Use it on everything.” He gestured to the box of gloves. “From now on, wear gloves. When you want to touch anything, wear a glove. If you need to pee, wear a glove.”

“What? Now you’re going to tell me that the Spy is somehow more hygienic because he wears gloves?” Sniper growled.

“No, Spy is more hygienic because he washes his hands and sanitizes his gloves,” the Medic argued, “Now, take these gloves. You’ll need them for the next few days. Use them while you’re applying the cream even. Stop spreading your damn infection.”

The Sniper fixed his clothes. He picked up the cream and the box of gloves. Without meeting the Medic’s eye, he took his leave. Finally, the infirmary was quiet again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In his day to day life, Medic is generally hygienic to a moderate level. It is just enough to prevent spread of disease. However, with the recent outbreak he had to witness in his office, he may be going to paranoid levels for the coming months.


	9. Fret and Worry

When the time finally came to drive to town, Medic just wanted to pass out in his car. He forced himself to drive to the pharmacy and go inside. Unfortunately, he found the pharmacy itself closed. At least the drug store it was in was still open and he could browse their shelves.

He yawned as he picked up a basket and headed to the back of the store. It was where the actual drugs were. He was not sure where to start, so he decided with the vitamin section. He went over a checklist of what Pyro needed in his mind, thinking about what he might be lacking in his lifestyle at the base.

He continued past the vitamins section and continued browsing. He decided to grab a few of the medicines for various ailments for his own use. He might have a cold and not want to go to the infirmary to get something for his own care.

A strange label caught his eye and he rounded back to the vitamins. He peered closer, adjusting his glasses. His eyes widened when he realized that he had found prenatal vitamins. This was definitely what Pyro needed. He quickly read over the label before throwing a few bottles into his basket.

He proceeded to the snack aisle to grab something for himself. His stomach growled but as he looked at the chips he could not imagine stuffing himself on these. Nevertheless, he grabbed a bag and proceeded to look around the food aisles.

His stomach continued growling as he looked at some refrigerated items. He decided not to dawdle longer and headed to the register instead of doing more shopping. He did not recognize the woman at first, turning his attention to digging out his wallet while she scanned his items.

“So the pregnancy tests came back positive, huh?” the woman at the register caught him by surprise.

He looked up from his wallet and blinked at her. He thought she must have been the same woman who checked him out when he initially bought the pregnancy tests. “Huh?” was all that came out of his mouth.

She smiled and showed him the bottle of prenatal vitamins, before putting them in a paper bag for him, “Last time you came in for pregnancy tests, and now you’re checking out with prenatal pills.” There was a bit of a tease in her voice. “Are you a really good husband or a really good dad?”

He blinked at her as he tried to process. Dread sat in his stomach as he realized that he was neither. Answering that it was his patient would be the worst idea yet. A normal clinic doctor or hospital doctor would have given the patient a prescription. Even if the patient could not fetch the prescription, a nurse or somebody else could fetch it for them, not their doctor. This was just over the counter vitamins.

“Honestly…” he swallowed his fear, “You would not believe me if I told you.”

She smiled, mischief gleaming in her eyes. She looked him dead in the eye and said, “Try me!”

He kept her stare and said, “A man is pregnant.”

She blinked, startled with disbelief. She clearly had not expected him to say this. She stared at his face for a long few puzzled moments. Suddenly, she burst into laughter, throwing her head back.

“Get out of here!” she roared with laughter. Thankfully the drug store was empty of customers save for him. “There’s no way!”

“It’s true,” he said as he placed the money on the counter.

She barely contained her laughter to giggling as she bagged the last of his items. She took the money to count out his change. As she handed it to him she said, “That’s got to be the silliest thing I’ve ever heard. Good luck with the…_pregnant man_.”

He rolled his eyes as he made his way out to his car. As he sat down in the driver’s seat, he popped open his bag of chips. He settled in with his seatbelt as he started munching on the chips. Hopefully crunching on these would help him focus on his drive back to base.

_Cradled in a rocker, a tiny creature cried. The incessant wail was annoying. He drew closer out of curiosity, as if he might have some way to cure the irritating sound._

_Peering into the cradle, he could see a very pink creature. He reached in and pulled aside a soft baby blanket. Red in the face, the poor thing wailed, letting out every bit of sound its lungs could give. Its eyes squeezed shut and its hands clenched. Its feet kicked as if it could not stand it anymore._

_His eyes fell to the creature’s plump little body. Red and covered in bumps he looked on in horror at a full body rash. He dropped the blanket from his hand. He looked at himself and realized that he too was covered in the same infection._

_Who could have given this to him? What could be done about it? The horror became all too real as he realized that his time spent taking care of rashes had infected his most vulnerable patient…_

Medic yelped as he sat up. He gulped for air. It felt as though the wind had been thrust from his lungs in his sleep. He breathed carefully and looked around. He was in his bedroom, dressed in his nightgown. He had gone to bed as usual, but had not expected such horrific nightmares. He reminded himself that it had been just a dream. He had nothing to worry about.

He glared at the open bag of chips on his nightstand. He would never be eating _that_ brand again. He could not be sure that they actually had anything to do with having a nightmare, but he might as well rule out any factors.

He stretched and laid back down. He closed his eyes and the image of the poor red child appeared before his closed eyelids. He opened his eyes, horrified by the sight. He did not want to see that.

He realized then that there was something to take from the dream. If nothing else, it would be a torture for the Pyro, in his current state, to have any contact with his coworkers outside of his suit. Medic being somebody who made contact with all of them would be a point of contact and could give Pyro a rash if he was not careful.

He ran his hands over his face and closed his eyes again. He tried not to think about that baby in his dream. He tried to focus on something more comforting. In the end, he chose to count a herd of sheep.

The next day and each day following became a pattern. There was work, then there were injuries. Most of them stayed away from the infirmary. Heavy was the only man who came in needing help. It was always a broken hand and needing help putting on his rash cream.

At the end of a week, Pyro finally came back to see Medic. He greeted the man with a smile, “Pyro! How are you? How are the pills working for you?”

Pyro shrugged and gave a non-committal sound. He did not give Medic any more of a response than that.

“Well, I am sending in a proposal to the Administrator to order an ultrasound machine. In a couple of months, I believe this baby will be visible by ultrasound,” Medic explained, “Won’t that be exciting?”

There was a sound but it sounded far away from enthusiastic. Pyro swayed a bit and scratched his arm.

“Don’t worry, the Administrator does not know,” Medic insisted, “I’m submitting reasons of necessary surgical procedures. You know, unrelated medical things. On the side, it will be useful to see the wellbeing of your child in a few months. Don’t you think?”

Pyro made another non-committal sound. He was swaying around a bit. Medic peered at him curiously, until Pyro suddenly gave him a thumbs up.

Well, Pyro _was_ the one going through hormonal changes. Mood swings would not be out of the question for his position. It was probable that Pyro was just not in a great mood.

“I will keep you updated on whether we get the approval or not,” Medic informed him, “In the meantime, do you have any new symptoms?”

Pyro looked up, as if thinking, before shaking his head. He raised a hand and waved. It sounded like he said, “Bye bye.” Then, he was out the door.

“Hmm…” Medic harrumphed as he stared at the doors, “I don’t recall there being a reason for Pyro to come in here. He left without anything…”

The work days went as usual. Day after day, Medic watched closely after Pyro. It was beginning to become more difficult, as if Pyro was avoiding him on the battlefield. It was also becoming more apparent that whatever stress Pyro was dealing with from this pregnancy was now affecting his work.

Medic pulled Pyro aside, out of the fray of bullets and rocket blasts. They pressed their backs against a wood panel wall as they kept themselves out of sight. Medic released the arm he had been holding to pat the man’s shoulder.

“Pyro, you need focus,” he said, “But you seem to be stressed. Are you doing alright?”

Of course his responses were muffled. He waved at Medic dismissively. Then he took a firm grip on his flame thrower. He turned in preparation to charge back into battle.

Medic grabbed his arm again, “Are you sure?”

Pyro hesitated, looking from the hand on his arm to the Medic’s face. He said something that sounded like, “Uh huh.” He charged into the fray with Medic on his heel.

It seemed having been healed was not enough. Medic could not heal Pyro fast enough to prevent a blast from turning him to pieces. He watched the spatters as a horrific thought came to mind. What was it like to be a helpless thing that had to die so many times over? He knew what it felt like to die over and over. But for something that did not even know the world yet… What was that like?

He did not have a chance to answer his own question before he was back in respawn. He sighed and straightened his tie. He switched out his saw for a different saw. He had some intentions of tearing some of the RED team new orifices.

He charged out of the respawn room. He was not afraid to go at it alone. He could hear a stray pair of footsteps though. With a glance around, he decided that it was a Spy. Fortunately, the RED Spy was not as fast at running as he was. He had only to pick up his feet and run full speed to escape the potential attack. It was when he was standing still or walking that the Spy would have his better chance. Maybe next time, but the Medic had plans to make somebody hurt for his visit to respawn today.

The work day ended in a tie. It was not exactly satisfying, but at least they did not lose. Nobody could lose with a tie. He was surprised the Administrator even considered a tie. It would be like both sides of a war choosing to let the other accept victory all at once. Was this a game or war?

He approached the Heavy, glad that he was wearing gloves, “Please come directly to the infirmary.” He spoke quietly, in hopes that others would not hear or pry.

The Heavy gave him an affirmative grunt in response. He accepted that and headed off to the infirmary. He wanted to make sure he did not get any of the rash near himself. The last thing he wanted was to potentially spread it to Pyro.

When Heavy came, so did Pyro. They came at the same time. They entered the doors, not even bothering with number tickets.

He looked between them, unsure of what to do, “Um…who is first?”

Heavy raised his hand, “Heavy need help with back.”

“Yes,” Medic nodded to him, then looked to Pyro.

Pyro spoke almost softly. Normally even yelling for them was muffled. This weak soft voice was unbearably quiet.

“Erm…Pyro, Heavy’s issue won’t take long. Could you wait outside the doors? I promise it won’t be long,” he insisted.

The Pyro let out what sounded like a sigh before turning back to the doors. Medic quickly pulled on his gloves while Heavy removed his shirt and vest. He made sure that his hands were definitely secure in the gloves before he came to Heavy with the rash cream. He took a moment to examine the size of the infected area before he started.

“It is already started to recover,” he said as he smeared rash cream over the rash, “I’m sure this will be gone in no time.”

“Is very itchy,” the Heavy responded.

“Well, do not scratch it,” Medic insisted, as he added more cream.

When he was satisfied with how much he had spread across the man’s back, he pulled his gloves off to throw them away. He looked in the trash and frowned at how many gloves he had been through this week already. He might have to order extra gloves sooner than the usual shipment.

“Thank you, doctor,” the Heavy pulled Medic’s attention to him to see that he was putting his shirt on.

“You’re welcome, comrade,” Medic nodded to him, “Now if you don’t mind. I have another patient to attend to.”

“Da,” Heavy hopped off of the examination table to walked with him to the doors.

When the infirmary doors swung out, the Medic looked around. Pyro was gone. Nobody else was there. The space with chairs was empty. Yet Pyro had been here earlier seeking help. Medic tried to find reasons that Pyro might leave.

Heavy said nothing as he made his way down the hall, presumably off to his room. Medic stood there, staring at the empty chairs wondering about Pyro. If he had a problem in his current state, then he should report it to the Medic immediately. There was no time to dawdle and hesitate. The Medic needed to know about every problem now. Otherwise, things could get worse.

A sneaking suspicion crept up on him. He froze, staring at nothing as he recalled his dream. Pyro could have gotten the rash. It was a very aggressive infection on all of his teammates. From the looks of it, it only required one touch from somebody with the rash to spread it to another’s skin. Worse still, it only took a little further touching of one’s own skin to spread it elsewhere.

Pyro lived his life under his suit. It was meant to protect him from the damaging heat of flames. However, this suit and its mask were good at protecting Pyro from most illnesses that befell his coworkers. Even the Medic became sick more often than Pyro.

Recently, with his condition, Pyro had been around Medic more often. And even if Medic had not shown symptoms or touched Pyro’s skin, he could very well have carried something or touched a glove on Pyro’s suit without realizing it. Pyro would have touched any part of the suit when taking it off and putting it on. It was likely for Pyro to get sick that way.

“Oh no,” his feet started moving of their own accord, “Oh no!”

If he by chance did touch Pyro’s suit with a glove that had touched one of the coworkers with a rash, such as the Heavy, Pyro could very well have contracted a rash. With how aggressive it was and how easily it spread, Pyro could already have a full body rash. Being how he was about his body, Medic already knew Pyro had a hard time coming to him about health problems that required he be shown his body. All attempts to get him out of all the suit all at once were met with too much opposition for Medic to push further. As much as he respected Pyro and his space, he came to realize that Pyro may be suffering in silence to his detriment.

He halted at the Pyro’s door, his heels clicking on the concrete. He made sure to knock loudly on the door, without doing so aggressively. He was not angry or anything, so he did not want the Pyro to get this impression.

He waited for a few minutes of no response. He knocked again and said, “Pyro? It’s Medic.” Again, there was no response.

He thought maybe Pyro was not in his room. Maybe he was elsewhere. So, he turned and started his search over the premises. His eyes scanned the halls as he passed through them. He glanced in open doorways and listened at closed doors.

When he thought about it, he did not know much about Pyro outside of work and medical. Pyro was very secretive and through the muffling of his mask, he did not give much away. It was hard to decide what sort of things the man would get up to in his free time.

He decided to check the recreational room. Lo and behold, Pyro was wrestling a record out of Scout’s hand. Scout had an expressive grit to his teeth as he struggled to get the record from Pyro’s grip. Pyro seemed to have the stronger grip, even if he did not have the stronger arms.

“Let go! Pyro!” Scout exclaimed through the strain.

“What is going on?” Medic inquired.

“Pyro won’t gimme my Tom Jones record back!” Scout yelled unnecessarily loud.

Pyro said something muffled by the mask. Medic watched as they pointed to the record. There was currently a record spinning on the player. The needle was to the side so there was nothing playing through the brass.

“Pyro, give him the record back,” Medic approached cautiously.

Pyro groaned and released the record. He immediately threw his body in front of the record player. To the man’s chagrin, Scout tried to shove through him to get to the player.

“It seems Pyro wants a turn with the player,” he carefully lifted the needle to put it in its place. A soft set of strings began to play over the record. “Let him have it.”

“But- I-” Scout scoffed and threw his arms into the air, “That’s not fair!”

“You got your record back,” Medic told him. He turned his attention to Pyro. “When your record is done, give Scout his turn.”

Pyro huffed something inaudible. Medic was about to explain that it was only fair, before Pyro suddenly marched from the room. Medic blinked at the exit he took. He looked back to see Scout replacing the record with his Tom Jones piece.

“Well, if Pyro ain’t going to use it…” was Scout’s excuse. He turned on some popular tune, while Medic tried to decide what to do.


	10. Why So Serious?

Medic sprung from a high position, leaping down into the fray. He rolled after landing, barely processing the sting in his ankle and the bruise on his shoulder. He turned his medigun on the Soldier, knowing he would be healed in the process. He picked up his feet to run as fast as he could, but he found himself left behind as the man used his rockets to get away.

He found himself with a Heavy and a Medic to face off with alone. He could only howl and run as fast as his legs could carry him. Bullets bit into him and the sting of his ankle dragged him down. He dove head first under an overhang of a building, where the foundational earth had fallen away.

He pressed his back up against it and cowered there. The Heavy could not fire his gun from ground level, so he would at least be safe from that thing. They would have to admit that he was a lost cause and go after one of the heavier hitters.

“Come on out!” he could hear the RED Medic giggling with excitement. He was strangely giddy, looking for blood to paint all over his white coat.

“Doctor! This way!” the RED Heavy shouted.

“Go! Go!” the RED Medic responded.

Medic could hear footsteps trailing away. He turned his head to peer out. He could just see the Heavy’s boots trotting off in a different direction. However, a separate set of boots, with slacks bagging around the upper edge, came marching towards him. He clutched tightly to the worst of his wounds as he watched the boots halt at the edge. Dirt scratched under the movement of the feet shifting and legs kneeling. A hand laid on the edge of the wood before the RED Medic’s face appeared with a wild grin spread across his face.

“Hello comrade!” he greeted, with a tone so malicious yet delighted at the same time.

He pressed his back tightly against the back of his hiding hole. His heart was racing as he reasoned out in his mind what his enemy might do next. He was not expecting him to reach in to grab a foot. He had no chance or leverage to pull his leg back before he was being dragged from under the overhang.

He yelped, reaching for his saw. With such close range, he figured he might well catch the man’s arm or something. Perhaps he could severely wound him and force him to retreat. Or better yet he could kill him.

“Peek-a-boo!” the RED laughed as he pulled the BLU out from under the overhang.

Pulling himself to his feet, the BLU Medic quickly pulled back his arm to slash at the RED with his saw. Unfortunately, the man had quick reflexes and pulled out of the way just in time. He was giggling all the while, as if this was a game he enjoyed.

“Not fast enough!” the RED drew his own saw and met the BLU’s next swing.

The BLU Medic gave him a forceful shove. As the RED’s balance fell backwards, he moved in with another swing. The RED used his momentum to his advantage, narrowly missing the slash. He whooped before leaping at the BLU. He had no chance to recover in order to deflect or avoid the attack. The saw’s blade struck right in between his ribs and sliced through the soft tissue.

He did not let the injury be in vain. His cackling opponent was none the wiser when he used the proximity to drive his own saw up under the RED’s ribs. He drove it upwards from beneath the lowermost ribs. He moved it around as much as the rigid tool would allow him, causing as much damage and pain as he could.

Finally, his opponent lost his big grin, spitting up blood. Very suddenly his perky exterior was replaced with shock. He stared back at the BLU as if he had not considered he might be injured in this altercation.

“Well…” the RED coughed as blood came up from lungs filling with fluid, “Nicely played.”

The BLU Medic withdrew his saw and watched his opponent fall to the ground. He was not dead yet, but with how much blood he was losing already, he would be soon. The BLU stood over his RED counterpart, feeling very triumphant.

“Now…” the BLU Medic growled, “This match is going to be in our favor.”

The RED barked out a sputtered laugh, “You take things too seriously!”

“This is war,” the BLU turned back to his fallen opponent. He placed a boot on his chest to compress him. The pain caused the man to whimper a bit. “There is nothing more serious. And I will win today.”

“I think there are plenty of things more serious,” the RED’s voice was strained as he spoke, “And the best will win. What is the point if you are not having any fun doing it?”

The BLU Medic snarled and tucked his saw into his belt. He drew his crossbow and aimed for the head. One shot and suddenly the man fell silent. His listless eyes stared at the sky with his mouth slightly open to speak.

“That’s more like it,” the BLU Medic growled through the silence left over, “Now…” His eyes rose as a rocket blast caught his ear. A man sailed overhead, dressed all in red. He smirked as he started in the direction the man would be landing, “I think he is next.”

Medic was in the middle of fighting off the RED Demo when he heard the call from the Administrator, “You failed!”

Shocked by this sour end, he was taken off guard with the RED Demoman’s sword. It ran him through and left him on the ground to die. When he opened his eyes in respawn, all he could do was throw the medigun down. It had been a long day of actually killing men. He had achieved beyond his previous record for the day, but it had been for naught. None of it mattered when the entire match was still lost to the RED team.

“This sucks on ice!” the Scout came storming into the respawn room to shove his things into his locker.

“You failed men. Boo!” the Soldier said a bit loudly.

“Team is failure! Again!” the Heavy threw his gun down so hard it broke through a wooden bench.

“Please, save your tantrums for your own space,” the Spy stormed past the rest and did not even stop at his locker.

“Medic! What the hell is your problem?” Scout demanded.

He did not dignify the declaration with response. Instead, he went about cleaning off his boots and removing his field coat. He kept to his routine, preparing his things for the next day’s work.

“You weren’t anywhere to be freaking found!” Scout went on venting.

“My kill streak was reduced due to _your_ incompetence! What do you have to say for yourself?” the Soldier demanded.

Medic ignored them as he took a seat on an undamaged bench to scrub the muck out of the crevices of his boots. He kept his focus on them, pouring everything he could into them. Every nerve inside of him was burning to bite back at them. Every part of his being was struggling against the restraints that he kept on his own behavior.

“You were like…freaking nowhere!” the Scout went on.

“Medic,” the Heavy tromped over, practically hovering over him as a mountain of a man, “This feeling you have? It is shame! You failed Heavy! You failed team!”

The Sniper stormed in and kicked the broken bench, “Anybody want to tell me what the bloody hell happened out there? Are you all just a bunch of monkeys? You drongos lost your marbles today!”

Medic forced himself to pay attention to his shoes. They needed to be cleaned before the mud dried. The last thing he needed was for the leather to start cracking and falling apart faster. When he was content with the job he had performed on them, he set them in his locker. He took the field coat with the intention of cleaning it after getting mud spread all over it.

“Why don’t you man up for your mistakes for once, Medic?” the Engineer’s voice finally cracked through his resolve.

Before he could start ranting and raving at them, he quickly turned and left the respawn. He marched hurriedly through the halls. Every part of his body was hot and shaking with the rage. The pent up anger made him want to decimate something. He wanted to cause some destruction.

When his feet reached the waiting area that led into the infirmary, he kept walking. He kept moving and did not stop. He marched right on past his work and off to his room. When he got there, he threw most of his stuff down. He grabbed his wallet and keys before he stormed out. He slammed the door before continuing towards the back of the base.

He threw the door open and stormed across the lot of parked personal cars. He placed his key between thumb and index finger as he approached so he could unlock it. He climbed in, started the engine and began driving. He did not even know where he was going, he just knew he needed to be somewhere else right now.

The car pulled into the parking lot and he put it in park. He sighed and rubbed his face. He did not know what he was going to do here, but he knew he could not go to base right now. He was not in any capacity to do anything that had to do with his coworkers. His colleagues would just keep ranting about the match and act like he did nothing to affect the match.

He climbed out and headed into the store. It was just as he remembered it. He strolled past the same woman at the same cash register as he headed for the aisles. He had nothing in mind to get though, leaving him at a moment of confusion. He decided to proceed to the snacks aisle. If nothing else, he could get something to snack on while he waited for his good for nothing colleagues to finally go to bed or be too involved in their own thing to come to him.

He meandered through the aisles, picking out snacks to eat. He eventually ended up in the refrigerated section. There was milk and cheese here. He was surprised that there were so many more doors containing alcohol. He could remember a time when the bar was the only place to go and get alcohol around here. Now it seemed that one could pick from a slew of beers, ales and whiskeys that proclaimed their prominence as something good to drink.

He wasted some time reading labels on these. He looked over the cans and bottles, looking at the information. It was a boring pastime, but at least it did pass the time. Eventually, he realized that he had been there for a very long time looking at lagers. It was time to buy things and get out.

He decided on a brand and pulled a case out of the bottom of the fridge. He hefted the thing. It was very heavy. There was no way he could drink it all. But with the way things were, he thought he might just need more beer hanging around. So he took this twenty-four pack of beer with his gathered food to the cash register to pay.

“Guys night out?” the woman asked, as she began to scan snacks.

“More like a solo night of getting away from screaming man children!” he declared in disgust.

She blinked at him, pausing with a bag in one hand, “That bad huh?”

He sighed, “It’s been a rough day- week…month?” He paused as he mulled over how long he had been so discontent with his coworkers. “Year?” he was certain it had been more than a few years that his colleagues had driven him to this extent of frustration. He could easily call it a rough decade, but decided against it.

“I see,” she nodded as she resumed scanning his items. She paused at the twenty-four pack of beers. She looked at the package then up at him. “You aren’t planning on drinking all of this in your solo pity party, are you?” she inquired.

He almost laughed at the thought that she might be concerned, “Not at all! Perhaps a few tonight. And the rest for later. This week isn’t going to get any easier, and I don’t have it in me to drive to the store every time. Besides! The price is better than going to the bar!”

She gave a half-hearted chuckled, “Yea, I don’t much go to the bar myself. It’s too expensive.”

He sighed, “Then you understand why it is a large container, rather than just one can.”

She gave an awkward chuckle, “Yea, I suppose I get it. I get needing to have a minute to relax in a peaceful quiet from time to time too.” She scanned the last item and began bagging his things, “That’ll be twenty-two ninety-six.”

He pulled out a twenty and dug out a few ones to place on the counter for her. She paused bagging the items to take the money and count out his change. He tossed the change into the depths of his pant pocket while she resumed bagging his things.

“What is it you do that’s so stressful, anyways?” she inquired.

“I’m a medical professional, in a highly competitive company,” he explained, trying to remain vague.

“Oh wow,” she handed the handles of the plastic bag to him, “So you must have gone to like doctor school and stuff like that?”

“Yes, I did,” he chose to omit further information about where or when he did his medical training. He was not sure who she might blab this information to.

“That’s a pretty neat profession,” she said, “I wish I had half the capacity to finish college, let alone med school. I couldn’t even get a degree in business.”

“It can be competitive in its own right,” he nodded, “You just have to put in all of your effort.”

“Unfortunately, our economy does not agree with letting adults put their all into studies,” she rolled her eyes, “There are always bills to be paid and mouths to feed. Anyways, I’m rambling. Have yourself a good night. Don’t drink too much, okay?”

He removed the bags from the counter and gave her a nod, “No promises.” He proceeded past the register out the door. He glanced warily around the dark lot, whose lights cast more dark shadows than they were supposed to. He proceeded to his car warily.

When he opened the driver’s side door, he set the bags in the passenger seat. He set the twenty-four pack on the passenger floor, before he tore into the cardboard. He pulled out a can and pulled the tab to open it. It made a crisp click before revealing the smell of wheat brew.

He did not bother savoring it, as he tilted his head back and downed the whole can. Today had been too horrible to worry about savoring anything. Today had been mud in his pants, blood dripping down his neck and straining to keep an upper hand in fights he was ill-equipped for. So when he finished the can of beer, he smashed it against his forehead just to vent out a moment of aggression.

He tossed the crushed can onto the floor and fished out a new can of beer. He pulled the tab, but before he could take a sip he noticed the front doors to the store open. His eyes rose to see a woman in a short dress and a black coat coming out of the store. She was not all that fancy, but the attire definitely threw him for a loop, before he recognized the woman from the cash register.

He resumed sipping his beer, taking a bit more slowly this time. She had warned him against drinking too much. Perhaps he should take that smart advice instead of just downing enough beer to kill his liver. Besides, it was going to be a long night if he was going to wait out his coworkers going to sleep.

He reached over to fish out one of the chip bags. He popped it open and stuffed his mouth full of them. They were not great, almost tasting stale to his taste buds. When he raised his attention from the bag, he jolted and looked at the figure of the woman bending to the window to knock on it. He pulled the door handle to open it, looking at her curiously.

“You aren’t out here trying to stalk me, are you?” she demanded.

He furrowed his brow, “If I were stalking you, the approach should not be to approach me. I could be highly dangerous.”

She immediately laughed, “I have pepper spray in my bag. I like the odds of needing to pepper spray a creep. But you’re like a grandpa or something.”

“A grandpa?” he exclaimed with disbelief. Sure, perhaps he was old enough to be a grandfather, but that did not mean she had to shove it in his face. He was certainly not in such bad shape that he looked elderly.

“You’re out here drinking, aren’t you?” she put her hand on her hip.

“What I do with my free time is none of your business,” he informed her sternly.

“Oh come on!” she gestured to the can of barely sipped beer in his hand, “I can’t just leave a grandpa to drink himself into a stupor and die in a car crash.”

He looked at the steering wheel. He had not considered what he might do if he became too drunk to drive. He supposed he had always intended to just drive back to base the entire time. Perhaps parking somewhere close to base would have been better, hiding in the car to drink before he stumbled his drunken butt to his room.

“Where are you going to go after this? What are you going to do, huh?” she inquired.

“Back…once they’re all asleep,” he assured her, “For now, I’m just biding my time.”

“Ah, so the can’t-go-home scenario,” she nodded, “Look, instead of getting yourself into a lot of trouble, come drink at my place.”

He looked her up and down, “You’re inviting a complete stranger to your home, in the middle of the night, whilst he is drinking, and you are wearing that.”

He gestured to her very short dress. Close up he was a little worried it would ride up and just reveal everything. He was not sure he had ever seen a woman wear something so revealing in public.

She glared down at him, “I wear what’s comfortable. You’re the dirty perve thinking of that!”

He reeled back, surprised by her gall. He blinked, trying to process how to respond to this. This seemed like a very strange and surreal interaction. It was beyond the sort of contact anyone would normally make in a small town in the middle of the desert.

“So, instead of letting somebody’s grandpa die in a car crash tonight, I’m taking you to my house to sleep off whatever frustration you’re dealing with. Alright? So follow my car,” she turned and her high heel boots clipped against the pavement loudly as she approached her car.

He closed his car door and set the beer between his knees. This woman was clearly crazy. She likely got her thrills from danger and was just out for another opportunity to risk it all. If he were any other man, perhaps any one of his colleagues, she could be dead tonight.

He looked at the hand putting the key into the ignition and starting the engine. He leaned back in his seat as he wondered if he was really doing this. He wanted to be sure that he was actually going to follow her to her place of residence.

He shook himself. He was not one of his colleagues. He was not an awful person. He probably should take the opportunity to stay somewhere instead of driving back to the base with more alcohol in his system. As it was, that first beer was probably just settling into his gut.

He put the car in drive and followed her vehicle from the parking lot. Already he felt very warm and comfortable. He really just wanted to sit in the seat and drink some more. He decided against drinking until he was parked again.

When he pulled in behind her car, he picked up his can of beer and took a few sips. He let out a sigh as he began to feel the buzz sinking in. He was startled out of his good mood when the woman knocked on the window.

He reached over for the twenty-four pack. He placed it on his knee while he opened the door. He stepped out of the car and turned to face her.

“Well? You gonna share?” she teased.

He held up the pack, offering the whole thing to her. She reached her dainty hand into the already ripped hole to dig out a beer and opened it up. He set the rest on top of his car. He leaned back against the car as he sipped his drink, mulling how silly a predicament this was.

“So, you follow strangers home often,” she snickered as she sipped her beer.

“This would be a first for me,” he sipped his beer as he continued mulling over the situation. Aside from her car, there was one other car parked along the curb. He assumed this was the vehicle of a family member or perhaps a guest, as it sounded like at least somebody was inside. He would have given her props, if not for the fact that she did not alert other people of her presence at all. Their presence at the place was nothing more than a minor deterrent for harm, if he meant any harm.

“Why do you seem so tense?” she inquired, gesturing to him with the hand holding her beer.

“Do you often bring strange men home? This seems like your first,” he eyed the window, where he could make out the moving outline of somebody talking loudly.

“Heh, everybody here can hear when the car pulls up,” she gestured to the window he was staring at, “They know I’m here. If you tried anything, cops would be called.”

He shook his head. The poor naïve girl actually thought the police would be a deterrent for real danger. Perhaps an ex-boyfriend stalking her would be deterred. He could not think of any of his colleagues not laughing in her face if they intended her harm.

“What’s so funny?” she noted the look of amusement on his face.

“It’s just so silly. You entrust your safety to people who are too far away to reach you before you could be bound and gagged in the trunk of a car or have your throat slit open to leave you in the gutter.”

She gave him a look, “That’s…really specific.”

He could not help bursting into laughter. He almost spilled his beer in the process, sloshing about in the can. He kept himself straight and fixed his glasses position. When he finally looked at her again, devolving into giggles, she was smirking at him.

“Oh, I get it,” she snickered, “You’re the dark humor type. Glad to see you loosen up though.” She proceeded to take a long swig of her beer.


	11. Overnight Stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Medic finds himself in an odd social situation with some new friends

Medic was not sure how long it had been or even how many drinks he had. Eventually, they were getting a little belligerent, so somebody suggested they move inside. He could not remember who it was. All he knew was that the woman from the store was half carrying his weight over her shoulders through the door into the house.

“What the heck, Cherry?” a woman hopped off of the couch to round on them.

“You brought a man into the house! That’s against house rules!” another woman shouted, but she was too lazy to get off of the couch.

“Relax!” the woman from the store replied, “What are you guys even doing up so late? Gramps here is just needs to crash on the couch so he doesn’t crash his car!”

“Gramps?” the woman no the couch snorted.

“No way! Get him out of here!” the woman standing pointed to the door.

“Oh come on! You’re not going to literally send somebody’s grandpa out to die in a car crash tonight, are you?” the woman from the store argued.

“Not my circus, not my monkey,” the woman standing said sternly, “Out!”

The woman on the couch groaned and slowly got to her feet, “She kind of has a point. If it was my gramps I would want somebody to stop him from driving while intoxicated.”

“That’s your own personal feelings,” the first woman standing said with an indignant huff, “Those aren’t facts to abide by.”

“Well, the fact of the matter is that he is very drunk,” the woman holding him up guided him over to the couch and threw off his weight. He immediately fell over the armrest, falling onto the cushions with a grunt. “And the fact is that at this level of intoxication, if he gets behind the wheel of a car, he’s going to die.”

“Then call him a freaking taxi or something!” the first woman standing argued.

“Just let him lay on the couch for tonight,” the woman from the store argued, “He’ll be gone in the morning.”

“Cherry, why do you have to do things like this?” a woman scoffed.

“What? Actually care about human beings?” the woman called Cherry replied.

He was not paying enough attention to keep track of who was talking anymore. It was so warm here. The cushions were very comfortable. He did not have the willpower to not fall asleep where he was.

When Medic roused, it was too a splitting headache. Oh the traumatic blinding light was doing a number on him. He was not sure whether the light was worse or the sounds coming from a nearby kitchen.

He groaned and sat up slowly. He was hung over, but he was not sure where he was hung over. He distinctly remembered buying beer and intending to drink that beer…

“Well, look who’s up!” a voice caused a pang of pain in his head.

He groaned again, “Was ist nos?” He reeled as he realized that he was speaking German and this woman likely had no idea what he was saying. “What? Where am I?” he looked around, trying to get his bearings.

“You’re at my house, dummy,” a woman appeared in front of the couch as he swung his legs off. He looked up to see that her hair was braided and she was dressed down to some soft pajamas.

“What am I-” he spotted a clock. Work was supposed to start early today, at around five am if he remembered correctly. According to the clock, it was already half past nine in the morning. He shot up off the couch and immediately regretted it as his head began to spin.

“Are you alright! Calm down, I’ll get you some water!” she insisted.

He patted his pockets, searching for his things, “Where are my keys?”

“Don’t fly into a panic,” the woman rolled her eyes as she proceeded to the kitchen.

“Is he awake now?” another woman’s voice came from the kitchen.

“Yea, he forgot a bunch of last night,” the first woman told her.

“Oh no,” he dug through his pockets but only managed to find some loose change in a pocket.

“Calm down and drink some water,” the woman returned with a glass and handed it to him.

“My keys?” he demanded as he accepted the water, “Where are my keys?”

“You probably left them in the car,” she informed him.

“In the car?” he felt a little stunned at that. That did not sound like something he would have done.

“Yea, you got pretty hammered last night,” she chuckled, “Honestly, the most polite drunk I’ve ever met.”

“Oh good,” a woman came down the stairs into the den, “He’s awake. Now he can go.”

“I will be gone, as soon as I find my keys,” he quickly downed the water and handed the glass back.

“Well, nobody here stole your keys,” the newcomer said in an irritated tone that bespoke of how uninvited he was. He wondered if perhaps he said something the night before that had angered her.

“Yes, we were just talking about how he probably left them in his car,” the first woman said, chuckling again.

“My car- Yes!” he turned and sprinted to the door. He threw it open and was relieved to see the familiar little old vehicle. He hurried to the door and found the door was locked. That seemed appropriately correct, but when he looked in he could clearly see the keys sitting on the seat. “Oh no,” he groaned.

“Hey, are they in there?” the woman came out in her pajamas with no restraint or shame.

“It seems that I have locked my keys in my vehicle,” he sighed, “This will require-” He cut off as he was pushed aside by the woman peering in through the window.

“Yup, that’s keys alright,” she laughed, “Looks like you’re stuck for a while!”

“Are you…kidding me!” his attention was brought to a woman at the door. She was the same woman who seemed irritated that he was here.

“You got any insurance for towing? I’m pretty sure a tow guy can get it open for you,” the woman standing at the window asked.

“Um…well…no,” he cleared his throat and glanced around. This was not the nicest looking neighborhood. The houses were surrounded by nothing more than desert sand rather than grasses he had seen in the suburbs.

“Well, that sucks,” she put her hands on her hips.

“He’s not staying here! Get him out of here!” the irritated woman called from the doorway.

“What? No, I want to meet the sleepy Mr. Handsome!” another woman burst past her, running out to meet them by the car.

“Lolly, don’t-” was all that came out of the first woman’s mouth before the smaller charging woman slammed into him and flung her arms around him.

“GLOMP!” the small woman shouted as she tried to slam the force of her whole body into him.

He quickly recovered his footing to stay standing upright. He looked down at the woman hugging his middle, unsure of what to do with this situation. He looked to the other woman for help, but she just shrugged.

“Goddammit! Lollypop!” the irritated woman came storming over, “Can’t take you anywhere! Get off of him!”

The woman called Lollypop looked up at him with a smile, “What’s your name, tall, dark and handsome?”

“What?” he could not find anything else to say in this situation.

“Lolly, get off of him,” the two women proceeded to pry this small woman from his waist.

“Sorry about her. She’s impossible,” the woman in a braid chuckled awkwardly.

“We could break the glass to get in,” the irritable woman commented, “I have a hammer.”

“Actually,” he interrupted, “If you have a crowbar, there may be a simpler way- No wait.” He chuckled at himself as he realized that he had a backup plan for these scenarios. “Do any of you have bobby pins?”

“Ooh! I do! I do! I have bobby pins!” Lollypop exclaimed in a high pitched voice. She turned and sprinted to the door and into the house.

The woman with the braid shook her head, “You’re not honestly going to unlock a car door with bobby pins, are you?”

“No, don’t be ridiculous,” he shook his head.

Lollypop came sprinting out on her little legs with her arm outreaching, “Here they are!” Behind her, another woman trailed out. She held up the bobby pins, which he took from her fingers.

“Thank you,” he walked to the back of the car and laid on his back to slip under it. Beneath the trunk tucked out of the way of the axle was a small black box. With just a bit of fidgeting with the bobby pins, he managed to get the lock on it and a key fell right out. He slipped out from under the car and handed the bobby pins back to Lollypop. In his other hand, he showed them the brass-hued key. “Thank you, ladies. I will be on my way.”

“Aww!” Lollypop whined, “At least stay a little longer!”

“No, he needs to get going,” the irritated woman told the smaller woman off.

“He slept all night on our couch,” the fourth woman intercepted the conversation, “At least give us an introduction, Cherry.”

Cherry chuckled and scratched her neck. She looked to him for an answer. That led him to chuckle at her predicament.

“Yes, she brought a complete stranger to her home,” he chuckled.

“Well, I’m Lollypop, but everybody calls me Lolly,” the smallest woman announced, “This is Cherry.” He patted the woman with the braid. “This is Sapphire,” she gestured to the irritated woman and then to the fourth woman, “And this is Dolly.”

“Lolly, Cherry, Sapphire and Dolly,” he repeated, “Those do not sound like names.”

“Those are the names you get, so deal with it!” Sapphire barked at him. Dolly giggled at her outburst.

“Well then, you may call me Medic,” he offered.

“Aww! But that’s not a name!” Lollypop protested.

“Neither is Lollypop,” he shook his head, “So if I will call you Lollypop, then you will call me Medic.”

“Difference being that people actually call us these names,” Sapphire argued.

“I am referred to as Medic in my circles,” he argued, “You may refer to me as such as well.”

“Alright then, _doc_,” Cherry spoke up. Her little quip brought giggles out of Lollypop and Dolly. “Hope to see you around, at least.”

He quirked an eyebrow at her. That was something he never heard from anybody.

“Yep, nope,” Sapphire waved at him dismissively, “See you never.”

“Please come back again, Medic!” Lollypop threw her arms around his middle again. Dolly and Cherry proceeded to pry her round arms from his waist.

“See you around,” Dolly waved.

“Bye,” Cherry added.

He cleared his throat and said, “Goodbye.” He hurried to unlock his car so he could fetch the keys and get behind the wheel.

He started up the engine and pulled away. The four women waved, with one of them looking annoyed that she was even joining in. He waved to them and pulled away from the house calmly. He did not want them to think he was ungrateful for their hospitality, after all.

Once he was out of sight, he slammed on the gas pedal and booked it for the desert. He had already lost several hours of work and was behind on everything. He needed to get to work hours ago. Now he would just have to arrive with some sort of lie.

It was bad enough that the team was likely suffering without him. Worst off was that the Administrator would likely have his head for this. He was not even sure what kind of punishment he would actually receive short of being fired for missing almost half a day of work without notice. He knew he was going to have more trouble than he could handle.


	12. Dark Sense of Humor

When Medic arrived, there were sounds of cheering and praise. He could hear the team gathering in the mess hall, likely drinking and playing cards. This was much cheerier than any other time, giving off a vibe of celebration more than anything else.

He paused before the door, moving close to the wall so he would not be spotted. He listened intently to catch any news that they had about the match. He was still not sure how he was going to deal with the fact that he had been absent for the entire match.

“And did you see the way he looked? I thought he was going to cry!” the Scout was yammering.

The Soldier snickered, “You did us real proud, son!”

Medic almost scoffed at that. He was not sure Soldier and Scout ever really got along. This was preposterous to their normal behavior.

“Scout is credit to team!” the Heavy laughed, a big boisterous noise from deep in his chest.

“Alright everybody!” the Engineer’s voice was so cheery when he spoke, “Enjoy!”

“Uh…Engie?” the Scout interrupted, “These are tiny.”

“That’s not food, mate,” the Sniper added.

“They’re bite sized burgers,” the Engineer retorted, “They’re easier to make, so I can make more of ‘em. Just dig in and enjoy!”

“Engineer is credit to team!” the Heavy announced.

“Alright, settle down,” the Spy interrupted, “Drinks are on me!”

“Alright!” Scout cheered.

The Demoman whooped excitedly, “I’ll have a try of that wine, if you don’t mind!”

“Please, be my guest!” the Spy replied.

The following laughter left his mind spinning. This was so surreal. This could not be happening. His team never got along. They never cheered each other on. They were always blaming each other for their shortcomings. Even when they won, it was nothing short of insults strung around the room.

“You gotta show us how you did that thing in midair,” the Engineer said.

“What? What thing?” the Spy inquired.

“When the rocket hit, you were surfing like it was water!” the Engineer declared.

“Yea, that was pretty awesome,” the Scout spoke through a mouthful of food, “And I would know awesome. Since like, ya’know. I do that stuff like all the time. I’m pretty awesome like that.”

“Alright. Alright, son,” the Engineer chuckled, “Who wants some more burgers.”

“Me!” various voices cheered excitedly for more food.

Medic sighed, wondering what went so right today. The only thing different today from any of the days they had won previously was that he was not around. He was not in the fight. He was not in the respawn. He was not there to take the criticism that came his way in spite of their win.

He looked up at the ceiling as he wondered what could have been different if he was here. He did not understand how his absence could have removed something that caused them to act like they were. Yet he could not think of any other factors that would associate to today’s win to more positivity than usual.

With that, he proceeded down the hall. He headed to the infirmary. Once he was behind the double doors, he looked around. It was as he had left it the day before. It was as empty as it was before. It was the space he worked tirelessly in, without thanks or consideration for his time and efforts.

He walked over to the examination table. He had seen his patients here countless times. He had done everything in his power to help them with illnesses and injuries here. He even went as far to help with silly smaller things, like backaches due to poor posture. It felt like a mockery to leave as it was, so he threw all of his force into flipping the thing over.

It slammed on the ground loudly and he proceeded towards the desk. He had spent hours upon hours filling out forms and requests for equipment and medication. The rotary phone sat quietly now, but he could still remember the last time he had a heated discussion with the Administrator about needing some updated MRI equipment. He had wasted precious hours of his time here trying to get their needs met.

So when he picked up the whole thing, he gave it a forceful yank, successfully yanking the connection cord free and chucking the whole thing across the room. It landed with a loud crash and a bell-like jangle.

He sighed and looked down at the desk. If his presence here meant nothing, then what was the point of staying? He was only causing himself more harm by staying around such awful men. They were just the worst and he knew it from the start. If he got out now, he might be able to slip out through town and make his way towards Mexico. It was his best bet for disappearing from Mann Co.

Ah, but as he recalled he was still on respawn. Respawn meant a lot of things. One of which was the very easy opportunity to bring back any escapees. They did not send out bounty hunters to bring men back alive, they just wanted them dead. A dead man on respawn would just end up back where he started, trapped in this hell.

But he had seen something about respawn. He could not remember what, but he was sure it could help him. If he could find the paper, then he could remove himself from respawn altogether. Thus, he quickly began his search, digging through files and papers. He ripped the drawers off of their hinges and tossed them aside noisily. When he did not find it in the desk, he proceeded to rip open every drawer in the filing cabinets, tossing aside all of the papers that meant nothing.

He was taken by surprise when a German voice interrupted his search, “What happened in here?”

He spun around, both hands full of papers as he faced his RED counterpart. Alarm bells started ringing in his head. His eye caught the saw on a countertop, but it was much closer to the RED than it was to himself. The man would have a much easier time keeping it away and fending off the BLU than the BLU Medic would have getting to his weapon.

“I had assumed you must be sick,” the RED proceeded further into the infirmary, “You are sick, aren’t you? Here, I brought medicine. You must be exhausted.”

The nonchalant attitude this man had as he proceeded to one of the care beds was surreal. He watched as the RED placed a bag on top of surgical tools and moved the table closer to the bed. He began pulling materials out of this bag and placing them out for the bed. He quickly checked the bed for cleanliness, then he reached up to switch on the medigun.

When the RED finally looked over at him, he blinked like he was confused. “Well? Are you unwell or not? Get over here!” the RED Medic’s voice was commanding as he pointed to the bed.

“What?” the BLU Medic could only blink at him. He was astonished to think this man was actually so delusional. “What are you doing here?!”

“Isn’t it obvious?” the RED glanced around as he stepped away from the bed to move towards the BLU, “You were absent from the field, so I had to be pulled as well. I assumed it’s because you are unwell. I do not like being pulled from the match when you are unwell. So I have decided to come make sure you recover quickly, in time for our next match.”

He stared at the RED, dumbfounded and a little lost. The man had stormed into the BLU base, somehow surpassed security, and instead of taking the opportunity to do anything relating to work, he was setting up to nurse an assumed sick Medic to health. He was not sure what to say at this point. This information was a lot to take in.

“What symptoms are you experiencing? We’ll start with the ones you had when you realized you were ill. Then we’ll work towards the symptoms you have now,” the RED explained.

The BLU Medic turned, walking quickly towards his saw. Since the RED moved to a different area, he was no longer in an easy position to fend him off. And so far, it seemed that the RED had come underprepared for an actual fight.

When he turned, the RED had not moved nor had his expression changed. He charged across the distance between them and went blade first into the man’s sternum. There was a painful grunt and an underlying moan. Yet, as he looked at his usually more cheery counterpart, he was disappointed to find no further reaction to the pain.

“You must be feeling better then?” the RED ignored the saw in his chest in favor of the BLU’s face. He grabbed his jaw and pulled his mouth open. BLU Medic gagged as a thumb depressed his tongue and the RED peered at his throat. “Your tonsils look good,” the man noted, “No swelling or redness. Do you have any issues with your stomach?”

“Are you so inept you do not understand what is happening?” the BLU hissed as he pulled back his saw. He plunged it in again, aimlessly forcing it into the man’s belly.

“Well, no I am not,” the RED stumbled back, causing the blade to come free. The RED reached up and tilted the overhanging medigun. Having been activated, its healing beams were already there, but he tilted it to aim it at himself. “My intentions are not for a fight,” the RED informed him, “So I have steeled myself for the inevitable. I won’t be fighting back.”

BLU Medic glared at him, “You stormed into enemy territory. Why aren’t you fighting back?”

“I just told you!” the RED exclaimed, “I am here to take care of your ailment!”

“I don’t have an ailment!” the BLU raised his voice.

“Well, I assume you must. You work yourself to the bone and never skip for anything short of the worst illnesses,” the RED countered.

“You must be joking,” the BLU growled, “You came in here, assuming I was ill…and what? You realize we are enemies who kill each other? Yes?”

“Ah, I also came prepared for your attitude,” the RED informed him. He paused to reach up and turn up the medigun’s capacity. “I know you better than most anyone. You’re more dedicated to your work than your colleagues notice. I know because _my_ colleagues don’t notice either.”

“Are you trying to claim that we are the same?” the BLU ran a finger along the backside of his axe, debating whether to strike again and where to strike. He might go for the throat, as it would lead to a satisfyingly dangerous wound that would not heal in time for the RED not to bleed to death. “That you know me because I am like you? Well, I am not like you.”

The RED laughed at that, in spite of the pain in his abdomen. His wounds were already healing up rather quickly, though he could tell it was painful to do something as jostling as laugh. “Oh hardly! We are barely alike! You are nothing like me. I wouldn’t begin to compare us,” the RED insisted, waving a hand with a laugh, “No. I know that you are much more serious. You take things to a literal point. You over extend yourself and you do not find this line of work fun. Or at least, you may have lost what it meant to have fun in this line of work. I’m not sure which. Either way, you take to your duties more seriously than is healthy, so I was fully prepared that you would be resistant to my help as an enemy. I am surprised you haven’t gone for more vital points at this time.”

“You seem overwhelmingly pleased,” the BLU hissed. He should strike now before he lost his chance.

“Well, you have shown some restraint by striking me in the abdomen rather than elsewhere. I am not fighting you, which means that there is nothing stopping or deflecting you from going after my vital organs or slicing my arteries,” the RED explained, “You do have the same curiosity that I do.”

“I’m not so suicidal that I would go into the enemy’s base, demand to be taken seriously while laughing, whilst not fighting back. Did you even _bring_ a weapon?” the BLU pointed at his counterpart.

“No, of course I didn’t,” the RED raised his hands, “I didn’t come here to steal anything or spy on anyone. I did not come here as an enemy. I came here as a concerned…erm…fellow…man of medicine!” The man’s grin was surprisingly wide, splitting his face the way it did when he was drawing blood from his enemies.

“And you were a fool to come,” the BLU informed him, “You know what would happen.” With his free hand, he grabbed the man’s vest and pulled him forward. His other hand drew the saw back, ready to strike. “You knew I would kill you. Yet you still came unprepared and unarmed. How pathetic!”

“Ah yes,” the RED said in a matter-of-fact tone that ignored the fear he should be having of the weapon aimed at his neck. It was infuriating. “That is because of your inability to bond.”

“What?” the RED’s words stumped him.

“You have this keen sense of understanding social cues and power structures. You are quick to adapt to them even,” the RED further explained, leaning away from the hand holding his vest. The BLU Medic had to hold strong to the vest to keep the man from stumbling back away from him. “However, you are missing some sort of key ingredient in bonding with others. You do not find reasonable ways to ground yourself in relationships. And for the most part, it creates detachment that you cannot explain. Or can you? I’m not sure. I am not you. This is all just observation. You have never been a trusting person, and as I have seen it comes from a lack of bonding and coexistence with others.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” the BLU hissed. He did not understand what this was. He also did not understand what he felt about it. He did not understand why there was suddenly heat in his face and blurriness in his eyes. Why was it suddenly hard to breathe?

“It is nothing to be worried about, I’m sure,” the RED insisted, “But it does create some form of distrust between yourself and your team. As I feared, you’re here alone and nobody came to help you. They’re just off celebrating their win, aren’t they? I must admit though, they must have had a particularly good time, because they are usually not so pleasant to each other. They are usually more alert too, I just walked in here and even passed by them!”

The BLU clicked his tongue as he lowered the saw, “Dummkopfs!” There was not much of a point in killing the RED like this, now that he thought about it. The man was here on peaceful terms and was not even armed to fight back.

“There there,” the RED suddenly noticed the BLU’s face. He was suddenly in his space, thumbs brushing at his cheeks. His face only grew hotter when he realized that he had not noticed tears moving down his face. The man was grasping his head and gently brushing away the tears. “No need to fret,” the RED’s voice was uncharacteristically soft. He had never heard him speak like this before. “It’s not your fault.”

He stepped away from the red and rubbed his face on his sleeve. How pathetic had he become? First he was out in town getting too drunk to return. Then he was considering removing himself from respawn and running away from these problems. And now the RED Medic, his arch nemesis and enemy was showing him pity.

“I understand if you still do not trust me,” the RED said, “I am not here trying to earn trust. I just came to take care of your wellbeing. Neither of us can get our jobs done without you being in your best health. So, tell me, what are your symptoms?”

“I do not have any symptoms,” the BLU growled.

“What? Well, you have perhaps done well taking care of yourself,” the RED admitted, “But let me try and help. What were your symptoms this morning?”

“I had no symptoms,” the BLU repeated, “I am not ill. I was not ill.”

The RED blinked at him. The BLU Medic thought he could see the cogs turning in the RED’s mind.

“You are just an idiot who is not as smart as he thinks he is,” the BLU added.

“You weren’t sick?!” the RED raised his voice.

“No,” the BLU narrowed his eyes and shook his head.

The RED’s mouth hung open as he pulled his hands through his hair. His disbelief did not falter as he began pacing a small space.

“You just…skipped? Out of work?” the RED turned back to him.

“I had car trouble,” he lied.

The RED frowned, “You were in town.” He took a step closer to the BLU. Before he could step back from the RED, the opponent grabbed his face and peered closely at his eyes. “Ah, you’re hung over. I see.”

“What could you possibly see?” the BLU gave the RED a shove.

“Well, I am glad you did not just wreck your car trying to return to base,” the RED pulled his hand back, “And I am glad that you are taking some much needed time for yourself. You have been looking worse and worse for wear these days.”

“I don’t need your pity,” BLU Medic growled.

“No,” the RED stepped past him, “But you know what? I am upset that I didn’t not get in the match today.” He proceeded to the other side of the room to a shelf where the BLU Medic kept some personal belongings. “You can make it up to me with a game of chess!”

“A game of chess?” the BLU slowly followed across the room.

He watched as the RED pulled out a folded chess board with a box of pieces. It had been collecting dust lately as he had neither time nor partner to play the game. The man brought this to the desk and began methodically setting the pieces to each side.

The BLU Medic watched him curiously. He was methodical as ever he was, moving every piece into its appropriate place with speedy hands that never faltered. Once it was set up, he turned the board so that the white pieces faced the BLU’s desk chair.

The RED then pulled up the guest seat. He looked up at his host and gestured to the board. BLU Medic made his way around to his seat, taking it very slowly. He eyed his counterpart curiously, while the man waited.

“I do believe it right that white pieces, and by proxy the host, moves first,” the RED Medic stated.

Suddenly, one of the double doors flung open. Their heads spun to look at the intruder. All dressed up in BLU, several mercenaries rushed in. The BLU Medic looked at his RED counterpart, who turned his attention back to the board.

“Well? Your turn?” the RED gestured to the board encouragingly.

“Thanks, Pyro,” Scout declared.

“How’d he get in here?” the Soldier demanded.

The BLU Medic hesitated, making his first move on the board. He was not sure what the RED might do going forward, and he was out of practice with playing chess. Even chess required some practice.

“Move out the way!” the Sniper was shoving through others, “I’m gonna skin him for thinking he can barge in here!”

“No way! I was here first!” the Scout pushed back with his elbow.

The RED made a move on the board. The BLU quickly made a move as well. He glanced at the others, then at his counterpart. The other man was so calm, as if none of this was actually happening. And for a moment, he started to consider that he might have actually lost his mind. He might be talking to a figment of his imagination, playing with himself whilst his team barged in to angrily take his head off for missing the fight.

“You made a big mistake coming here!” the Engineer cocked his shotgun.

Suddenly, the RED turned to address the crowd, “Do you hear alarms about an intruder?”

There was some hesitation. Some among the BLU team shared looks of confusion.

Finally, the Scout said, “Well, no. But-”

The RED Medic quickly cut him off by saying, “Then there is no intruder. I am not here intruding or spying or what have you. I was called here by the Administrator. Due to the unforeseen poor health of your Medic, the Administrator saw fit to have me forego my duties on the battlefield to tend to the care of your Medic.”

There was silence. None of the mercenaries on BLU seemed to know what to say. The BLU Medic certainly did not know what to say. This seemed like a surreal situation and he wondered if he was hallucinating at all.

“As you can see,” the RED went on, “We are in a temporary state of truce. Just a small game of chess to pass the time before I decide on whether he will be in fit and fighting form for tomorrow.”

Silence still permeated the room. The BLU Medic wanted more and more to intercept this monologue. He was not sure what to say though.

“While you were all drinking and having a merry time with your usual work, I was busy taking care of _your_ Medic,” the RED Medic shook his head, “Apparently none of you have ever heard of tending to your own. So the Administrator outsourced.”

None of them said anything. The RED Medic’s words seemed to be scorching now.

“Congratulations, by the way,” the RED added, “I would have enjoyed seeing how it happened, but as I said, I was busy.” He gestured to the BLU Medic.

When their gazes shifted to him, their expressions changed. Before, they seemed like they were being scorned. It seemed like they were being humbled. But when they turned to him, all he could see was hate and disgust. He was sure they thought the worst of him.

“Him?” the Spy finally spoke up, “Sick?”

Dread dropped in his belly. He realized that the RED had given him something of an out from the backlash, lying for him about being sick. But when he thought about it, at least one of them was bound to know the truth about his whereabouts.

“Just because he is a doctor does not mean he is not human,” the RED Medic replied, “You have to have noticed. Didn’t you? I mean, I noticed. He has been worn out for days. I can’t believe none of you have pulled him out of his work to make him rest. Or eat proper meals even.”

“Tired ain’t no excuse to be off the job,” the Engineer spoke up, gesturing with his shotgun.

“No, but severely ill is,” the RED Medic argued.

“He looks fine to me,” Scout gestured to the BLU Medic.

“Yes!” the RED Medic smiled at the BLU, “And by no short account in thanks to getting the proper care he needed!”

“Well, he seems fine now,” the Spy’s response was flat and unenthused.

The RED looked from the crowd to the BLU Medic and back, “I suppose he does, but he still needs more rest. He is in no condition at the moment to do much of his usual work.”

The crowd of BLUs shared more looks. They did not seem sure about what to do with themselves.

The BLU Medic decided that it was time to sell it. The lie had been planted and it seemed the only way he was going to add to the RED Medic’s words was by giving them a show. So, he took a deep breath with a wheezing noise and gave his best attempt at a desperate hacking cough as he could. It sounded surprisingly worse than he had intended it to, as he dug out the air from the bottom of his lungs.

When he finally stopped hacking, he realized that the others were backing out of the doors. They were in a hurry to leave, but they had to push through each other to get there. He was satisfied when the rest had escaped, leaving the infirmary quiet again.

When he looked at the RED Medic, the man had a tilt to his head. His eyes were trained on him, with a furrow in the middle of his brow.

“What?” he blinked at the man.

“Was that intentional? That sounded really bad,” the RED Medic’s voice was oozing with worry.

The BLU decided to shoot him a grin, “Well either you have a contagion to worry about, or I’m better at faking maladies than you are at identifying them!”

The RED Medic rolled onto the back legs of his chair as he laughed. He grinned broadly, laughing like he had heard the best joke of the decade. And while he was distracted, the BLU Medic began concocting his plan on the chess board.


	13. Damn You Exhaustion Addled Brain!

It seemed like everybody was giving the Medic his space. He had never felt so much space to breathe. It was both relieving and terrifying at the same time. It almost seemed that they were up to something. On top of that, nobody came in for checkups or the like. He had not been able to so much as set up a blood test for the Spy.

It was finally a win on Friday. It had been a difficult win after the enemy team’s hard hitters pushed so fast. It left them in the throes of satisfaction.

He stepped into the respawn room and upon seeing the Spy, he hurried over. The man was just about to close his locker door when he approached. Upon seeing the Medic in his space, he yelped and jumped away.

“Spy, I have materials ready to do a blood test as per your request,” he explained, “We can discuss it more in the infirmary.”

“Ahem,” the Spy straightened himself, “With all due respect, I will not be setting foot in your infirmary.”

Medic blinked at him, “Why?”

The Spy cleared his throat, “Because…” He took an extra step away from the Medic, as if in caution. “Because I do not wish to be exposed to whatever you are sick with.”

“What?” he blinked at the man.

“Excuse me,” the Spy turned on his heel and quickly left.

“I’m not…sick…” he did not get his words out in time before the Spy was gone. He wondered if he should go after the Spy to let him know it was safe to return to the infirmary.

That following Monday, it was as if nothing had ever happened. The team lost the match and everybody was bitter about it. Again, more insults were flung at Medic. And then, when he went to the infirmary, everybody was waiting to be taken care of. There were the same arguments, bickering about who was fit to go first and who should go after. Soldier ended up wrestling with the Spy, who was trying to just pry himself away from the powerhouse.

By the time he managed to get done with their injuries and take a blood sample from the Spy, it was late and he was too tired to worry about hunger. He dragged himself to his room so he could get some sleep. He did not want to bother waiting for sleep anymore.

The days grew longer, or at least they seemed to do so. Every day, he went about his work, and regardless of the outcome, his teammates were ungrateful. They were unhelpful. They were over critical. None of them could offer anything in the sense of gratitude, let alone assistance.

It put him in a bad mood. He was not in the mood for dealing with his last patient. Still, he had a job to do, so he took a breath and tried to keep himself composed.

“Yes, Pyro? What do you want?” his voice came out more clipped than he had intended.

Pyro flinched and turned his head down. Gloved hands wrung before himself. Not a muffled sound came from behind that mask. He just stood there, staring at the floor.

“Please, Pyro,” he pushed a stray lock of hair back, as it was starting to fall into his eye.

Pyro huffed and pointed to the curtain across the room. Frustrated and exhausted, he marched over to pull the screen from the X-ray area towards the examination table. He dragged the thing across the room to surround the examination table. When he finally had it there, he gave a heavy sigh. He watched Pyro step around the curtain hesitantly, but he remained on the other side.

“Medic?” that soft meek voice almost surprised him. It made him jump right out of his exhaustion addled state. It was like ice water had been thrown on him.

“Yes?” he spoke hesitantly.

“I need an operation,” Pyro said.

“An operation?” he asked. He was not sure what the man was referring to.

“I can’t…” Pyro broke off, his voice cracking, “I can’t- I can’t do this. I can’t carry this thing.”

“Carry a thing,” he rubbed his head as it throbbed with the headache that inevitably came after a long, tiring day.

“This…I…I can’t keep it,” he whimpered, “I feel sicker now. I feel…gross…”

“Various symptoms are to be expected,” Medic replied, “Though I’m not sure about gross.”

“I don’t want this thing,” Pyro said, his voice growing a bit desperate.

“You want an abortion?” he flinched with surprise at hearing the words coming from his own mouth as he realized the meaning of this conversation.

There was silence. Then there were footsteps. The boots strolled towards the edge of the screen. His eyes followed where Pyro might be until they halted at that edged. A gloved arm popped out from behind extending with a card of green.

“I see,” Medic hesitated, “That is a serious operation to undergo…and a serious choice to make.”

“I know that already!” unaccustomed to Pyro’s voice, his hackles stood on end upon hearing his fury. It was not loud and boisterous like the other mercenaries’ voices, but somehow more grating. He liked it much less now. “Don’t you think I know that?” Pyro’s voice sounded weak, “I…I mean…it could be a boy or a girl…and…and…he or she would have my nose and my hair.”

Medic tried to imagine what Pyro looked like. Pyro rarely removed his mask for any reason. Even in doctor’s checks, Pyro typically used the mask to obscure his hair and eyes. Any attempt to get a better look at him was met with outrage. He thought the only time he had gotten a look at half of his face was to look in Pyro’s throat to check for infection.

“But…I can’t do this,” Pyro went on, “I can’t. They’re all looking at me, you know.”

“Looking at you?” his attention was caught by these words, “Who is looking at you?”

“Everyone,” Pyro answered, “They look at me. Normally they see me in this suit. But it’s getting bigger. I’m getting fatter.”

“Ehm…” Medic pinched his lips together firmly. Something seemed not right about this. Pyro was certainly not far enough along to be picking up any weight. “Pyro, have you put on weight? Is that what is bothering you?”

“I’m pregnant and they can tell!” Pyro shouted.

“Okay,” Medic used a softer voice, “I am going to be very blunt and honest about what is seen outside of your goggles. Absolutely nothing. Nobody can tell of anything.”

“You’re only saying that to calm me down,” Pyro sounded like he was shaking and likely crying.

“Let me have a look at your physique and give you a more educated medical opinion,” he offered.

The hand came back around the curtain with a red card in hand. He was a bit shocked at this. He did not understand why Pyro would be turning down medical help at this point in time.

When the hand pulled back, Pyro said, “I just want to get it over with.”

“Well…” he paused, “I am going to have to be able to do the operation on you without the suit. You know this. I am going to need to do a health check on you prior to the operation, to maintain you are healthy.”

“I AM HEALTHY!” Pyro shouted.

“Okay,” he kept his voice soft, though his nerves were shooting electrical currents through his body. He closed his eyes, took a breath and slowly counted down. 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. He opened his eyes as he steadied his breathing. “Pyro, listen to me.”

Silence answered him. He listened intently for any signs of shuffling or movement. Maybe Pyro had more cards he was looking through and he was not paying attention.

“I am your doctor,” he insisted, “I am a medical professional. I have done everything so far in favor of your health and care. My job is to keep you in fighting fit condition, and I will do so without harming you. If you wish to terminate this pregnancy, then I will do what I can to that end. But you must cooperate. No more making this on your terms. I am unable to proceed, if you do not cooperate.”

“But-” Pyro tried to interrupt.

“I am overworked and underpaid. While the rest of you go about your card games and the like, I am in here dealing with patients. While injured persons lounge about on the beds, I am on my feet working,” he explained, bitterly remembering the past weeks of endless exhaustion.

“What does that got to do with me?” Pyro asked.

“You will work with me, in my schedule. You will handle this as I prescribe. You will follow the steps in cooperation with me as I prescribe them. Do you understand?” he said firmly.

“Y-yes, but-” Pyro spoke in attempt to protest.

“I do not want to hear any buts,” Medic argued, “Since working with you, I have done everything in my power to ensure your comfort and safety, have I not?”

“I mean…” Pyro sounded hesitant.

“At what point have I exposed you?” he demanded hoarsely, “At what point have I not gone beyond my usual duties to make things easier for you?”

There was silence for a few minutes. He took deep steadying breaths to calm himself down. He felt like sparks were going off in his back. He hated the overwhelming feeling that made him want to scratch at his skin.

“You are not my only patient,” he informed Pyro, “You are not my only concern. I cannot spend another night trying to handle your issues for you, because you are unwilling to cooperate in some way. This operation is serious. And so, if you have considered it seriously, then you must be willing to step out of your comfort zone. Do you understand?”

“Y-yes, sir,” Pyro’s voice was almost a squeak.

“Good,” he sighed, “I’m going to need to prepare equipment for this operation. In the meantime, you consider how serious you are about your decision. I will call you in when I am ready to discuss this.”

Pyro was not behind the curtain for more than thirty more seconds before he appeared. He was fully clothed and masked. He did not look at Medic or seem to acknowledge him in any way. He marked right out the double doors and disappeared.

The loud bell of the alarm clock shook Medic from his slumber. It was time to get up and be ready for the day. It was going to be just another day of work, he figured. So, he went about getting dressed for being messy and dirty.

It was when he was pulling on his vest that he remembered the conversation with Pyro from the evening before. His fingers moved more slowly over the buttons as he recalled what he said and how he had said it. He recalled being so tired and fed up. He was fed up with the world and wanted nothing more than to just stop doing his job.

“Oh Gott,” he breathed, turning his head to look at the bed-messy hair in the mirror. He wondered what Pyro saw of him after hearing what he had said. “What have I done?”

Medic was in the middle of healing the Scout when a sudden blast from both the RED Soldier and the RED Demoman simultaneously put together sent the younger mercenary flying. He skidded to a halt and quickly changed trajectory while these explosive opponents were reloading their weapons.

He barely dodged in through a doorway as a rocket blasted behind him. He could hear the blast and feel the heat rushing towards his back. It felt like it chased his heels as he hurried to find his exit. His head whipped around when he heard footsteps running after him. He dove through a doorway and threw himself behind some boxes.

He listened as the footsteps ran past him. He remained there a few moments more, just to be sure he would not be spotted. When he was sure that the pursuer was gone, he leaped out of hiding. He was about to run from the building when suddenly a RED rushed in. He came to a sudden halt as he came face to face with the RED Medic.

He grunted as he put space between the two of them. The RED, however, smiled broadly as he proceeded towards him. His blue eyes were shining with delight, as if thirsty for blood.

“Let’s begin!” the RED hissed with something like glee. He immediately drew his saw and aimed for the BLU Medic.

“Medic!” he heard a teammate call in the distance.

“Leave the lambs to their slaughter!” the RED’s voice was a menacing growl, though his lips were curled upwards, “It’s just you and me!”

“Doc!” another familiar voice called from the distance.

“Medic!” he distinctly recognized the Soldier’s voice this time.

“Help me! Somebody help!” he was not sure if it was the Engineer calling or the Spy.

The RED cackled, leaping towards him with the saw stretched out. The BLU quickly sidestepped and kicked the man in the hip. With his enemy sufficiently thrown off balance, he turned and fled from the building. He picked up his feet, silently sending out a proclamation that he would definitely be there, and he would help his team stand against the REDs.

He found the Demoman’s body and proceeded past him. There were others who needed him right now.

He found the Scout’s body. He kept running, his eyes scanning the area for signs of anybody else.

He stumbled over the Soldier’s body, the lower half of which was a bloody mess. He must have blown himself to smithereens. There was no need for RED intervention in this man’s idiotic death. He proceeded to look for somebody else in blue attire.

As he came upon the center of the action, he found the Heavy, the Spy, the Sniper, the Engineer and the Pyro were all dead. The Engineer’s equipment blew up just as he was stumbling to a halt. Nearby, he heard the roaring of the Heavy’s favorite gun revving up. The RED Heavy roared, sending a tirade of bullets his way.

He opened his eyes and grunted when he realized that he was in respawn. Around him was an entire crowd of BLUs. They turned upon hearing him respawn. Glares seared daggers at him as he gazed back at each of them silently. It was known to them moments before the Administrator’s announcement.

“You failed.”


	14. Standing Ground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Medic discovers his greatest idea yet.

Medic stormed into the infirmary and stomped through the room. He threw his coat aside and did not bother with his boots. He only became more frustrated when he realized that he neither cleaned his boots nor switched them out for the ones he wore inside the base. This just made for more work for him cleaning up the mess. What did it matter though? His coworkers were far more careless with their own boots. He would have had to clean up in here anyways.

He ignored the mess as he began to pace across the infirmary. He did not care if there was work to do. Everybody else was without work to do. Why not him? He grabbed a pipe from his desk and the tin from a separate cabinet. He filled the pipe before digging for a match. As he lit the pipe, he could hear the others crowding outside. They expected him to take care of their maladies.

“What am I doing here?” he grumbled to himself. He was not going to sit here and take their blame while tending to their wounds anymore. “I don’t need to be here.”

He turned on his heel and marched through the doors. All eyes turned to him, but he continued marching. He ignored the men who called after him. He let their words fade away. He kept moving his feet until he was at his room, where he could lock himself in and be at peace.

For the first time since he started working there, he put himself in his room to be in quiet directly after the battle. He dressed down and threw himself on the bed. He could not remember the last time he laid in his own bed, closed his eyes and went to sleep before midnight.

He flinched in surprise. He looked around, bewildered to find himself in his own room at this hour. A knock came at the door. It came again, he realized before he managed to get out of bed. He stopped partway to the door, listening intently to figure out who was on the other side.

“I am not taking any patients this evening,” he glanced down at himself, realizing that he probably should not even open the door.

There were muffled sounds on the other side. He could not make out who was there or what they were saying. He was not evens sure who was trying to speak to him through this door.

“I cannot hear you through the door,” the Medic insisted, “And again, no patients tonight. You can go ask Engineer to set up a dispenser.”

He listened, hoping the person might just leave. He was not about to lay down and let his guard down when the mercenary on the other side might just break the door down.

There was shuffling on the other side. He listened intently, trying to decide what to do. Perhaps he should just put some clothes on and open the door to tell the man the word “no.” At least then he could be a little firmer and assert his answer.

He flinched when he noticed something slipping under the door. He padded towards the door and crouched down. The piece of paper slipped unevenly through the door, causing wrinkles in its form.

He took the paper between two fingers, turning it to see its face. It was a scribbled picture done in crayon. There were stick figures, but he did not have a clue what any of it was. There were only two people that he knew of who scribbled drawings. Considering most of Scout’s works ended up in pen, he was sure that this was from Pyro’s collections of colorful crayons.

He sighed as he rose to full height. He reached out and unlocked the door. He opened it a crack so that he could be heard clearly, “Pyro, I don’t know what this picture is-”

He cut off as the door slammed into his body. The body on the other side shoved his way in, forcing Medic to fall. He grunted as the suited figure charged in and slammed the door behind him.

As he scrambled to his feet he muttered about the mistreatment in his mother tongue. He looked to the Pyro to find that he had lifted his mask, raising it in an eschew manner. Medic could see his mouth, with his nose pressed against thick suit material. It forced him to breathe through his mouth.

“Pyro! What do you think you’re doing?!” he demanded.

“Medic,” the Pyro’s voice came out in a weak squeak. It came out in such a way that Medic fell speechless. For a man, Pyro was bewilderingly adorable. Pyro paused to clear his throat, “Where are you? I can’t see anything.”

Medic was still speechless. He had forgotten that Pyro had this remarkably soft yet squeaky voice. It was kind of adorable, coming from one of the most playful maniacs he ever met.

“Medic?” Pyro stretched out his gloved hands and started moving his feet. Medic was startled at first, but stood his ground as thick, cold gloves came to rest against his chest. “Wait…” Pyro hesitated, his hands moving up to Medic’s shoulders, “Wait…” His fingers were searching for something. “Medic, are you naked?!”

Medic flinched at that, realizing now that Pyro was likely unused to the nonchalant presentation that many of their coworkers had. Pyro was a man who hid away, keeping his secrets tighter than Spy ever could. If he came to the realization that he had barged in on Medic nude he would go nuts.

Looking down at himself, he realized that no, he was not nude. He still had his undergarments on. He was not completely naked. It would not be unthinkable to be in one’s own room dressed like this. Still, Pyro was probably the last person to be revealing any of this to.

“No!” he exclaimed, pushing Pyro’s hands away, “You caught me with my shirt off. Nothing out of the ordinary. You barged into _my_ room anyways!”

“S-sorry,” Pyro squeaked.

Medic sighed. He could not find it in him to be frustrated. All of that feeling fizzled out at the sound of that squeaky little voice.

“What are you doing here, Pyro?” he asked as he took a small step away from the other man.

“You weren’t in the infirmary,” Pyro replied.

“Yes, I’m not taking patients tonight,” he explained.

“Are you sick?” Pyro asked with a small gasp.

“No, I’m not sick,” he responded.

“Then why didn’t you come to the infirmary?” Pyro pleaded, “I waited for hours.”

“I am not taking patients this evening,” he repeated in a firmer tone.

“But doctor!” Pyro pleaded with him.

“No buts!” he protested, “Everyone finishes their work at the same time. I end up working past midnight!” He glanced at the clock to see that it was a quarter until nine o’clock. At least it was not too late. “I’m done with overworking.”

“But…I…Medic…” Pyro had a whimper in his little pleas. It pulled at Medic in a way he did not understand. He felt like it was yanking at a weak point in his soul. “I need…”

Medic sighed, “I understand your condition needs tending to from time to time. But…Pyro I cannot be at the team’s beck and call for all the hours of the night with no sleep anymore.”

“Oh,” was all that came out of Pyro’s mouth.

Crap, he thought. Pyro’s response was pulling at his heartstrings, and no matter how aware he was of that fact it kept pulling on him. It was like a set of thin ropes looped around his neck choking him, pulling relentlessly with taut slack.

“Pyro,” he sighed, wishing he could be just a bit colder than this. He felt like he was melting in guilt. “I will do everything I can to help you. However, I cannot keep going as I was before. I need my rest as well as you do.”

“Okay,” Pyro backed towards the door, one hand reaching searchingly for the handle.

“What did you come here for?” he figured he might as well alleviate whatever paranoia Pyro was dealing with.

“I-I came because…” Pyro’s voice trailed off for a moment. His lips moved soundlessly for a few moments.

“Well?” he pressed.

“I don’t want the baby,” Pyro answered, “I can’t deal with this anymore. I want you to remove it.”

Medic blinked. He was stunned at the Pyro’s change of heart. It did not seem to be that long ago when Pyro had responded to the news of the pregnancy by distancing from him. He remembered having to be up all night with Pyro fighting him to try and take care of the man’s health.

“I have been looking into hysterectomy operation as a possibility,” Pyro went on, “I’ve wanted to do it for over a year now. I just needed to save up for the treatment. I’m ready for it, and I’m not going to do…parenthood.”

Medic was not sure what to say. He was shocked by this revelation, with Pyro’s very drastic change of heart. Pyro had fought hard to keep away from what he thought was a threat to his baby. Now he was speaking with such a nonchalant tone about giving up the child.

“You…I…Pyro, I don’t understand,” he blinked at him.

“I have had a lot of time to think about it,” Pyro explained, “I don’t want to do this anymore. The throwing up, the bloating, the headaches…”

“You should have come to me about symptoms,” Medic said.

“I…” Pyro wrung his hands, “I tried. I really can’t deal with this anymore. It’s not just the pregnancy. It’s the…everything.”

“Everything?” Medic quirked an eyebrow, even as he realized that Pyro could not currently see him.

“I have wanted that procedure for a long time,” Pyro explained, “It’s bad enough that I’ve had to deal with these symptoms. But eventually there’s going to be a kid. And then what? I can’t be a parent. I can’t even deal with the effects the baby is having on me.”

“There is such a thing as adoption,” Medic spoke a bit more hesitantly than he meant to.

“No,” Pyro said firmly, “I’m not going through this pregnancy anymore. I am not doing this anymore. I am not a woman. I need you to man up and do your job.”

Medic’s tongue was frozen for a few moments. When he finally managed to start moving it, he could not make it form words. His appall had less to do with Pyro’s proclamation than it did with his own growing rage at the Pyro’s demand.

“Pyro,” he barely restrained himself from growling.

“Yes, Medic? What do you have to say?” the Pyro said, with such confidence that put bitterness into Medic’s already growing rage.

“Get out of my room,” he growled.

The battlements were quiet. The desert was cool at this hour of the night. The place had an almost peaceful look to it. Out here, nobody would bother him. At least, nobody he knew of would bother him. He had no idea that any REDs had the same idea during a difficult day.

“What a lovely eve, isn’t it?” that familiar German voice caught him off guard.

He spun on his heel to face the other Medic. The man was sporting his usual wild smile, but he was more surprised by the casual get up. He was wearing a pink plaid sweater vest over an off-white button down shirt. His choice of pants were khakis with sneakers with an obvious brand embroidered into them. If not for his chiseled jaw and styled hair, he could have mistaken the man for a school boy.

“I did not meant to startle you,” the man’s eyes creased in a delighted way.

“You should not be tromping about without a weapon,” the BLU Medic told him scornfully.

“Nobody comes out here,” the RED shrugged, “I come out here often enough to know that nobody really comes out here for anything other than a walk or a smoke. There’s no reason to worry. Besides, you’re out here and you’re not armed.”

The BLU was delighted at the RED being wrong. He slipped his hand under his coat and pulled out a small handgun. He pointed it directly at the other man’s face, cocking the hammer back smugly. His delight grew at the instantaneous loss of the wild grin. The man’s eyes widened and all at once his whole expression described confusion and shock. The BLU could have laughed.

“Oh,” was all that escaped the RED’s lips as he stared at the weapon pointed his way.

Seeing that the other man still had not drawn any weapons, the BLU lowered his gun. He pushed the hammer back into place before he holstered the gun. He did not need it for now anyhow.

“I suppose that should not be so surprising,” the RED said, as he watched the BLU put his gun away, “After all, you are very calculated in everything you do.”

The BLU Medic pulled the pipe from his mouth, “Or…perhaps you do not know me as well as you think you do.”

“If not, then I would like to get to know you better,” the RED smiled. It was a smaller, less alarming smile this time.

“I wonder if you were dropped on your head as a boy,” BLU looked the RED Medic up and down.

“Just because we are enemies on the frontlines doesn’t mean anything,” the RED argued.

“Yes, it does,” the BLU protested.

“No, it only matters to employers,” the RED shook his head.

“And that is why it matters,” the BLU argued.

“That is a stupid reason for it to matter to you,” the RED shook his head, “You are placing high importance on how your employers feel. That does not seem healthy in the slightest.”

“You should be more worried about job security if you do not worry about the employers’ opinions on fraternizing with the enemy. This is a war, not a supermarket we work at,” the BLU contested.

The RED shrugged, “If we had to worry about job security, don’t you think we would have had some actual threats by now?”

BLU frowned as he remembered the RED entering the BLU base without permission. He had to have been reprimanded by superiors, surely. They would not overlook something as blatant as a visit to the enemy to take care of the enemy’s ailments.

“What?” the RED raised his arms in reproach.

“You haven’t been threatened for the incident?” the BLU inquired.

The RED barked a laugh, “No! It’s like it never happened!”

The BLU shook his head, “That’s more disconcerting.”

“Relax!” the RED laughed, “We’re irreplaceable. I get job offers from other places. I learned this from my team’s Spy. My employers intercept them. They don’t want me to realize that I am a greater asset for my skills!”

The BLU did not say anything to that. He had never received any job offers, but he would not know if they had been intercepted. Looking on the previous day’s events, he was not sure his employers considered him to be too great of an asset. The team won without him anyways. He was not needed when they could simply use a dispenser.

“I’m sure it is due to the incompetence of the BLU Spy that you have not heard,” the RED went on, “He is impractical and not the least bit helpful, from what I understand. The RED Spy on the other hand, has been _very_ helpful.”

The BLU Medic studied the other man for a moment. Perhaps it was true. Perhaps somebody _had_ noticed his hard work. Perhaps he was not alone in thinking his coworkers were fools for abusing his thankless work.

“Well, since we are here, why not a sit down to chat?” the RED suggested.

“A sit down to chat?” BLU furrowed his brow.

“Yes,” the RED nodded, “It’s just out of sight, if you are worried about anyone coming out here to see us. It is not so secluded that it is hard to leave either.”

The BLU huffed a sigh. The RED Medic was clearly not armed and if he was to try anything, the BLU Medic was armed with his trusty little handgun. This might be the only opportunity he would have to actually get some answers about his counterpart’s odd behavior. Not that he thought he man could answer those questions, no this would be an opportunity of observation. Rather, he would be asking his counterpart about the discovery of other employment offers and where the Spy managed to get such information.

The RED turned, strolling towards a bridge to hop down to the area below it. The BLU followed at a distance, still worried about the enemy’s intentions. He was not sure what he had in mind or where they were going. He kept every possible escape route in mind as they went along though. He was just as aware of the layout of this place as the RED Medic was.

The RED Medic strolled through the interior of a building, sneakers scuffing up the metal stairs. The BLU’s boots clunked loudly against the stairs. He was wearing the same boots he would have been wearing during work hours, since they were dirty already. He listened to the footsteps, a part of his mind wary and another part curious of how surreal it was to walk here undisturbed by most of the enemy team.

He followed the RED through a small hall and outside again. They came to a small run down building. It was mostly used for cover of fire. It was littered with bullet holes from the countless uses. On the inside there were still burn marks and some damage on the floor boards from the Engineers’ equipment.

In the corner was an old, empty wire spool. It stood with several crates around it. Not far from this spool was a battlement medicine dispenser. It was refilled and ready for somebody to use it.

The BLU glanced from the familiar medicine to the spool. He was familiar with this place for all the times he ducked in to grab some medication. He had never thought about the giant spool or the crates around it though. The RED had thought about it though, and he was seating himself on a crate. He shifted in his makeshift seat and smiled up at the BLU.

“Care to join me?” the RED gestured across the spool table.

The BLU took the seat in silence. He shifted on the hard seat. It was nowhere near comfortable. He imagined it would take a good amount of cushion to make it passable for a chair.

“If I had known you would be joining me,” the RED started with a delightful grin on his face, “I would have brought…well something!”

“Something?” the BLU inquired.

“Tea or perhaps a chess set,” the RED suggested, “It would be nice to have another game of chess. What do you think?”

“I think this is a dangerous place to bring nice things,” the BLU answered.

The RED nodded, “I suppose so. I don’t see anybody notice who comes or goes during off hours though.”

“So,” the BLU folded his hands on the makeshift table, “How is it that you came across the information about other employers sending you offers?”

“As I said, the RED Spy brought this to my attention,” the RED Medic answered, “Enough about that. I want to know about you! Your passion projects…your hobbies!”

“As you know yourself,” the BLU gestured to his enemy casually, “I work after work. I am spared no spare time.”

“You should work on that,” the RED pressed.

“But what about you? Have you applied to other places for employment?” the BLU pressed, curious as to what had sparked potential employers to reach out to the RED Medic.

“Oh no,” the RED chuckled, gesturing dismissively, “Not at all. But what are you passionate about? Surely you have something going on? Something you do on the side. Perhaps something you do while you’re simultaneously working even?”

“No,” the BLU answered curtly, “You didn’t apply anywhere? Or even leave a resume somewhere?”

“No, I didn’t,” the RED shook his head, never losing his smile, “But what is it that drives you? If you do not have a passion project, then surely there is something that drives you to do what you do every day.”

“I don’t really have anything,” BLU shook his head, “No thanks. No free time. No passion projects. I don’t get much of anything from this.”

“Sheesh,” the RED grit his teeth, “They at least leave you alone though? I am sure they avoid your office like the plague. I know my team does. They would rather sleep on a concussion than come to the infirmary to have it taken care of.”

“That is dangerous,” the BLU frowned, “All of my teammates harangue me for attention most every day after work. Cuts, bruises, broken bones-”

“What? Those things can be handled by a dispenser!” the RED banged his hands against the makeshift table. It startled the BLU a little.

“Well, it is defined within my contract that my duty is to keep my coworkers in fit and fighting shape. I do my best with it too,” he winced, “And these idiots couldn’t rely on the dispenser if their lives depend on it. And at times it does!”

He thought about the rash breakout. The dispensers clearly did nothing for it. The Engineer was in his equipment nest too much for there to be such a widespread and awful rash if the dispenser worked on it. Not that any of them could be bothered to just go and buy rash cream if they realized they had a rash.

“These idiots!” he scoffed with a laugh, “They think I’m _made_ of medicine! And they do not even bother with getting their proper ailments treated in any sort of timely manner. I have to be the one who notices they even have a problem! Would you believe…there is a major rash breakout?”

“A rash, you say?” the RED’s sudden demeanor shift, with eyes darting around was too suspicious.

“Yes,” the BLU squinted at him, “A rash, I said. A particularly aggressive rash.”

“Ah…might I guess it spreads quite easily?” the RED inquired.

“What do you know about this rash?” the BLU glared at him warily.

“Well, it was merely a test,” the RED replied slowly, “It was supposed to have a different effect.”

“What is _it_?” the BLU Medic inquired.

“An bacterial infection,” the RED Medic answered.

“A what?!” the BLU exclaimed in disbelief.

“It is mostly harmless,” the RED insisted, “It rarely penetrates beyond skin deep. Ingestion is perhaps inadvisable. It’s easily gotten rid of with any form of antibiotic. It was only a prototype so it was made to be gotten rid of easily. You tested for bacterial infections, didn’t you?”

The BLU scoffed, “It did not present as a bacterial infection!”

“Ah well…” the RED smirked, “That was a passion project for me a while back. I suggest you give doses of antibiotics to all of your coworkers. So, now that you’ve heard mine, I want to know something you’re doing. Or perhaps something you plan on doing? Surely you have _something_ you want to try?”

“Nothing,” the BLU shook his head.

“What? Really? Nothing?” the RED pressed.

“Nothing,” the BLU shook his head.

“You can’t just plan nothing!” the RED insisted, “There must be _something_ you’re just dying to try!”

“Well,” the BLU huffed, “Between dealing with rash break outs and pregnancies I am all booked up on time.”

“Come again?” the RED asked.

“Hmm?” the BLU blinked at him.

“You said…pregnancies?” the RED had a look of disbelief on his face.

BLU’s heart began to race. It became a little harder to breathe. He could tell that he fucked up, but he was not sure how to back out. He reminded himself to breathe carefully, to just slow down. All the while he managed to count down from ten.

“Pregnancies?” the RED was blinking at him, utterly disbelieving, “You managed to make men pregnant? How does that work?”

The BLU stared back at him, taken aback. Men who were pregnant? Well, he had not actually considered that. Technically, Pyro was a man who was pregnant, but he was not planning on being pregnant anymore. He would be giving up the fetus in favor of being anything but pregnant.

“I told you about the bacterial infection, at least give me something!” the RED pleaded, “Who is the test subject? How has the project progressed?”

“At the moment…” the BLU hesitated, his mind racing with thoughts. He was altogether lost and yet found something. He was not sure what it was, but it excited him. Maybe, if Pyro did not want to be pregnant, then the child could be moved to somebody else. “There is not yet certainty of anything on this project.”


	15. When the Infirmary Crashes and Burns

All of the preparations had been made. A week ago, this had only been a fleeting thought that came to him because of the RED Medic. Now he was in his infirmary and ready to begin.

The doors were fully barricaded against any intrusion. Water bottles were set up for him in case this took longer than he thought. IV drips were prepared to fill the veins of his patient. Bags of two kinds of blood were already waiting in preparation for the surgery. Two mirrors stood aside for later, with a hand mirror laid with the currently unused tools.

His patient now laid on the table with sheets draped over his body. He was wearing his usual mask, looking strangely out of place. The localized injections would be all that was needed for this procedure.

“Let’s see,” he pulled a sheet of cloth aside and flicked the skin. When there was no reaction, he flicked again. There was no reaction. “If you can feel this, please raise your hand.” He flicked the skin again. Pyro just shook his head. “Very good, I’ll begin with incision and removal.”

Pyro said something that was muffled under his mask. No matter, Medic thought. He turned his attention to his work, as he pulled a table closer. He snatched up the scalpel and began the first incision. He watched carefully for any reaction, just in case Pyro was not being entirely honest about not feeling anything on his belly.

With the patient completely sewn up, Medic felt he was ready to change places. He rolled a gurney to the table and transferred Pyro over. He brought the gurney to the beds to transfer Pyro again. There, he tucked the man in and turned on the medigun overhead.

Pyro said something, but again it was muffled. Medic shrugged as he adjusted the dials on the medigun. He wanted it to work efficiently.

“I have something to take care of for myself,” he explained to Pyro, “Get some rest. Just ignore any noise you may hear.”

Pyro’s muffled noises sounded like “thank you” before he raised a thumb. Medic nodded to him before he returned to the surgical area. He returned the curtain to afford himself some privacy while he started by cleaning up.

Everything was just about ready for him. He just had to make sure he did this right. He changed the set up by bringing the mirrors to stand before the foot of the surgical table. He brought the hand mirror over to set with the rest of his tools.

He discarded his lab coat and undid the buttons of his vest and shirt. Discarding of them, he hopped up onto the surgical table. He glanced at the parts he would be using before studying himself. Pyro had a clean and almost hairless abdomen. Cutting into himself would have the complication of hair that distracted his eyes from straight lines and direction.

He shook himself. No, he was simply distracting himself from what he needed to do. He would just have to trust himself that he was better at this than he had given himself credit before. It would be similar to what he just did, and that was a walk in the park anyways. This would be no different. He just had to worry about the pain.

He glanced at the medication. It would be much easier to bear with stronger medication like what he gave Pyro. But he had to be sure that this would turn out okay. He could not risk his mental state in this situation. He was the one with the knife going under the knife.

He chuckled to himself at that, “Well, now I’m simply stalling! Better get started!”

Medic moved sluggishly across the infirmary to the beds. He reached up carefully to turn on the dials of a medigun, before he climbed onto the bed. He kicked off his boots and let out a sigh. He just needed to relax under the medigun’s full strength beam for now.

His body was so shaky. He must have spent an hour putting up with the pain. He must have spent an hour struggling with making everything work. It felt like an eternity getting it done and stitching it shut. At least he was able to use some topical solution to numb the stitching area. That would be a sharp pain in the morning.

No matter, he thought. It was done. He had managed to perform surgery on himself without complications. He managed to do so with minimal bleed. He even managed to do so within the allotted time he estimated the parts would have.

His project had been started at last. He could rest easy knowing that he held full control of the situation. Better yet, he no longer had to worry about Pyro. Pyro could go on his merry way feeling a little better about himself.

He was glad they talked it over earlier in the week. It had been a strange back and forth, namely because of Pyro’s refusal to remove any of his mask at first. When Medic still did not understand Pyro’s frustrations, he had finally exposed his mouth enough to speak.

He remembered how defiant Pyro had sounded when he said, “fine, you can have it” like donating to science was somehow a burden. Well, he would make sure not to burden Pyro with the knowledge about how it was being used. Besides, he was much too tired to think about explaining what he had been doing for the past hour.

Medic was disturbed by something. He was not sure what it was that disturbed him. He looked around in a bleary daze before he realized that his glasses were not on his face. Silly to think he would have had them on his face. Though he did recall not having removed them when he laid down on the bed.

“Sleeping on the job ain’t no way to be,” he recognized the Engineer’s soft American accent anywhere.

“My glasses?” he could make out the Engineer’s general form, despite it being very unclear.

The Engineer gave a sigh before putting the glasses in his hand, “If you’re going to be doing self-surgery, at least do so a little more responsibly.”

“Huh? What?” Medic put his glasses on and looked around briefly. He was still on the bed under the beams of the medigun. Except…there were no beams. The medigun was smoking like it was on fire at some point. He looked to the rest of the infirmary to find that it had definitely been on fire. Charred and burned remains of the place were all blackened. “What happened?” he started to move but the pain of the incision stitches trapped him. He winced at the pain and remained still for now.

“Electrical circuit backed up,” the Engineer turned to the other men in the room.

“Ack!” the Demoman coughed, “Looks like the ceiling’s going to need a new one. Everything here is charred and useless!”

“I dunno, some of this looks like you can use it. Just add a can of paint. I bet you could just plaster it back on!” the Scout argued.

“No,” the Demoman picked up a piece and it immediately crumbled.

“Is good thing doctor is safe,” the Heavy appeared as if out of nowhere, quiet as a cat on his feet.

“He had respawn though,” the Scout argued, “Respawn is still on. Pyro respawned. Medic woulda respawned too.”

Heavy turned to glare at the Scout. When Scout shut up, he turned back to Medic. However, he did not speak up this time.

“Wouldn’t want a uh…complication,” the Engineer gestured towards Medic.

Medic instinctively followed the gesture and glanced towards his belly button. He felt his face grow hot when he realized that as exposed as he was, they could all see the fresh marks of his surgery.

“Wait…Pyro went through respawn?!” he flinched. He immediately regretted it as the stitches protested.

“Lightning bug seemed fine after going through respawn,” the Engineer gave a nod, “But you don’t seem to be in a good state.”

“Equipment is broken,” the Heavy touched the medigun overhead and a section broke off, landing where Medic’s head had been laying.

“So uh…about this doohickey here…uh…” everybody turned to Scout, who patted the x-ray machine.

“Scout, that is the x-ray machine,” the Medic explained, “You are leaning on an important and expensive piece of equipment that the Administrator will not replace.”

“Right,” the Scout pushed off of it, “I think it looks ok. What do you think, Demo?”

“Looks like a pile of shite,” Demoman replied.

“Are you idiots quite done?” Medic growled.

“Yep. Let’s get you someplace that didn’t burn to hell,” the Engineer gestured to the Heavy.

“Da,” Heavy nodded in agreement before moving to the side of the bed, “Come, doctor. We go together.” Heavy pulled on him a little to fast as he urged Medic to put his arm over his shoulders.

Medic hissed, “Slow down! My stitches are fresh.”

“Come on, doc,” the Engineer took his other arm, “We don’t got all day.”

“And I don’t have enough blood to handle these stitches breaking,” he bluffed.

The Engineer paused, turning towards the Demoman and the Scout, “One of you grab Medic a blood bag, just in case?”

“The hell’s he need a blood bag for?” the Demoman asked loudly. Clearly he had not been paying attention to anything going on with the Medic.

“Which one is Medic’s blood type?” the Scout inquired.

Medic was a little surprised. He never would have pegged the Scout to be one who would think of blood types. Half the time, Medic did not even think about blood types. He would certainly think about it this time, since it was for his own safety.

“The ones currently propped up by the surgical table are my type,” Medic explained, frowning at the remains of the privacy curtain.

“Ah, okay,” the Scout approached the previously discarded bags.

Meanwhile, the Engineer and the Heavy brought Medic to his feet and started forward. Medic bit down on his lower lip as a high pitched noise unwittingly escaped his lips. He screwed his eyes closed and held his breath for a few moments. When the pain finally subsided, he opened his eyes to see the Engineer giving him an impatient frown.

“Alright, Kraut. Let’s get moving,” the Engineer growled in distasteful impatience.

The Heavy started moving and Medic was unfortunately forced to move along with them. His whole body trembled at the pain. Every movement strained the skin and threatened the stitches. He was forced to bite hard on his lip as he refrained from complaining too much about the pain.

“Doctor’s room is here,” the Heavy pointed to Medic’s door.

It was locked though, and upon realizing that his keys were in the pocket of his vest, he found himself at a frustrating loss. The Engineer was reaching for the handle when Medic spoke, “It is locked. My keys are in my vest in the infirmary.”

The Engineer’s hand closed over air and he took in a breath. The stiffness gave away a very aggressive intent. Though, when the man turned back towards him, he offered up a grin, as if he was a friendly chum.

“I’ll go have a look and see if I can find them,” the Engineer turned to the Heavy, “Can you handle him?”

Heavy nodded, before the Engineer shuffled off. His arm wrapped right around and hooked under Medic’s opposite armpit.

The growing sensation and realization that his upper body was nude was growing intense. Medic was not sure for how much longer he could stand being manhandled like this. He decided to try and ease his own discomfort by removing his arm from Heavy’s shoulders and moved towards the wall. Still groggy, his feet responded stupidly and made him trip. He caught himself on the wall, but as Heavy swooped in to help, the man seemed to believe that _he_ was the one who saved him from a fall.

“Do not worry,” Heavy assured him, gently pulling him away from the wall, “Medic takes care of team. Team takes care of Medic.”

“Thank you, comrade,” he nodded to the man. None of it eased the sensation of closeness, and the embarrassment blistered in heat across his face.

“Welp,” he was startled by the Engineer’s sigh as the man came back towards them. He could feel how hot he was, now more embarrassed at being caught during mere thoughts of how this man was holding onto him. “No dice,” the Engineer brought out his wrench and with one mighty swing wacked the handle, breaking the thing clean off.

“Engineer!” Medic exclaimed, this time more confident that his feet would hold him as he pushed away from the Heavy, “What do you think you are doing? That is my door handle! I have keys for that!”

“You did,” the Engineer nodded, “Unfortunately they were right at the center of where the fire started.”

The stocky man raised a boot and slammed it squarely where the handle had been. It took two kicks before the door partially splintered and gave away. The Engineer tromped inside, leading the way for the Heavy to bring Medic into his room.

“We can’t even fish the keys out of your vest, on account of they’ve melted to the fabric,” the Engineer explained.

“Wait, what started the fire?” the Medic asked, barely paying attention as the Heavy handled him. He was not moving his feet. The Heavy was moving him onto the bed and situating him to be more comfortable, like he had practice with caring for patience. “How is it possible for a fire to have started there? How did it start?”

“My guess is that when Spy and Scout were dicking around with electrical equipment plugged into the building’s main circuits, they shorted out the whole thing. Whole damn thing was shot. We had a damn black out,” the Engineer explained, flailing his arms a bit in expression of frustration.

“Was surprise,” the Heavy added.

“As far as the infirmary…I’m just going to leave it at the fact that you are lucky to be alive after the mediguns shorted. I think it was that big machine in the corner that did you in,” the Engineer explained.

“Machine for pictures of bones?” the Heavy gestured to his hand as if it meant something. Medic knew what it meant, seeing how he most often had to x-ray the Heavy’s hand to check the extent of damage.

“No, not the x-ray machine,” the Engineer shook his head, “The one by it.”

Medic’s heart sank, “The MRI machine? I…but…”

“Looked new,” the Engineer added, “I dunno what it does.”

“The MRI machine?!” he exclaimed upon hearing confirmation. There was so much work he needed that machine for.

“Sorry man,” the Engineer shrugged as he started to the door, “Guess you’ll just have to send for another one.”

“No!” he exclaimed.

“No?” the Engineer paused halfway to the door.

“Do you even realize how expensive that was?” Medic sat up. The Heavy was at his bedside quickly, pushing him back down to the pillows. He ignored the gesture as he tried to be heard, “The Administrator took _months_ to get that machine to us! Months!”

“That’s unfortunate,” the Engineer shrugged, “Unfortunately, there’s nothing I can do.” Engineer stepped through the doorway before he turned around. “Let’s go, Heavy,” the Engineer called, “We’ll come back when we get a working medigun.”

Heavy followed the Engineer out into the hallway. The Texan proceeded to push the door shut, though it ended up falling ajar. Medic could hear their footsteps leading away from the door, headed off to the infirmary.

Medic stared up at the ceiling. He was alone as usual, but this felt unreal. The infirmary had been burned and he slept through the damaging incident. The whole procedure could have been ruined by this. He had never transferred an organ from one mercenary to another before, so he was not sure what effects this would have.

He laid a hand over the stitches of his incision. His heart was starting to race as he thought about all the pain he endured for that procedure. If the Pyro went through respawn, then there was a chance that everything was reset. The whole procedure was just a knitting of stitches now, with the pieces he needed back in the Pyro’s body.

He closed his eyes as the growing pain stung his gut. All of this pain and it was for nothing. Worse yet, he was not able to go to the infirmary and run any tests to see how everything was doing inside of his body or Pyro’s body. He could not even find out if any of this project was feasible anymore.


	16. When you Throw a Match, Calculate the Gains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BLU Medic meets RED Medic after work

As Medic stepped into the respawn room, he had an eerie sense that the team had gotten quiet upon his entrance. He did not look at them, rather busying himself with preparations. He would not give any of them the satisfaction of putting him off.

Despite his best efforts, it seemed the room was intent on staring at him. At least, they pretended they were not staring at him. He could feel their eyes though, whenever he turned his back. He could feel it thick in the air as they remained silent instead of talking and making boisterous noises.

When Medic closed his locker, he was surprised by the Scout’s face nearby. “Hey doc.”

Medic yelped in surprise, moving away from the shorter man. He gave the man a stern frown, “What do you want, Scout?”

“Was just wondering,” the Scout’s was very blatant about breaking the silence in the room, “What kind of surgery did you do on yourself?”

Medic was a little more aghast than anything else. He swallowed the building lump of fear as he glanced around the room. He could feel their eyes again, staring at him as they waited. They were all looking to hear from him about what it was. But if they were so curious, what would they know about it? It was not as if they had not had many surgeries themselves.

“Demo put his money on appendix removal,” the Scout barely missed a beat, but he seemed to miss the tension in the air, “Sniper thinks it’s probably a gall bladder. Soldier said you probably got twisted intestines, and you had to go in and untwist them. I think that’s a load of bunk. But Engineer said it looked benign on first glance, but that surgery isn’t something to be sure of when looking at it from the outside.”

“Scout?” he hoped to make the younger mercenary stop talking.

“Spy said you were probably working on some creepy experiment or something,” Scout went on without acknowledging his words, “But Engineer said that you wouldn’t have done that on yourself. You would have needed somebody else to take that for you.”

“Scout!” he barked.

“What?” Scout blinked at him, with an innocent look of bewilderment.

“What do you want to know so badly?” Medic held out his hands with exasperation.

“What do I wanna know? I wanna know what kinda surgery you did,” the Scout explained.

“No, why do you want to know,” Medic rolled his eyes for conflating his own question, “Why do you want to know this so badly?”

“Oh, well…I mean…you’re the only person here who does surgeries,” Scout gestured to the others in the room. They were all silently watching this display with curious eyes. He thought he even detected a hint of interest from behind the Engineer’s goggles. “Doing surgery on yourself is like self-harm…so like…had to be serious…right?”

Medic straightened himself as he faced Scout. He glanced around the room, moving only his eyes. His hackles rose with alarm under the pressure of their gazes. They were all waiting for his answer, curious about why he would put himself under the knife like this.

“An interesting question,” he spoke to Scout, but his eyes were studying the others who were watching, “Yes, it seems I have a health condition. A growth if you will.”

“Oh! So you cut that thing out?” Scout asked, “Glad to hear it. Wouldn’t want you having…you know, a hard time on the battlefield and stuff.”

“It’s taken care of,” Medic answered, finally turning his eyes to the Scout, “And Scout?”

“Yea?” Scout turned back to him.

By now the rest were sated. They were all going back to their usual work of getting ready for the day. Scout might even move on to do his own thing now.

He stepped into Scout’s space, producing the saw from his belt, “Put _my_ medical information out as a public display again, and I will rip your throat out.”

“Jeez! Doc! I didn’t mean anything by it!” Scout yelled, throwing his hands up.

Medic put on a big smile, mimicking what he had seen the RED do many times before. He raised a hand and gently patted the younger man on the cheek. “This is just a warning! You’ll have plenty of chance to think about how much it’ll hurt if you cross me.”

“Alright! God! Jeez!” Scout did his best to get out of Medic’s space and make his way to his own locker.

Medic glanced around the room. Nobody was looking at him anymore. In fact, they were making a lot of noise with their lockers too. None of them were paying attention to him anymore, but all of them heard his warning.

Relieved, he turned to the gate and left the lockers. He had a lot of fighting to deal with today and he did not want to talk to these men about anything regarding the surgery. As it was, he was still unsure if Pyro respawning had undone his work or not yet. He could only hope that being under the medigun for much longer had solidified in Pyro’s body that the removed parts no longer belonged there.

It had been a long battle. Medic was rendered isolated when the Demoman left him behind and the Soldier was knocked out by a shot from his RED counterpart. Not wanting to respawn after such a long streak, he hurried through a side building to take cover. He grabbed a medkit to quickly mend his wounds.

“Ah good! I do like a fairer fight!” he felt like he was jumping out of his skin when he heard the RED Medic’s voice. He spun around to face the man, who had his saw bared and ready. The RED charged in for the kill, forcing the BLU to dodge. Apparently the RED was expecting this and gave chase instantly.

The BLU Medic had no idea how he ended up in a situation where he fell, but one moment he was running, then the next he was on his back trying to prevent the RED Medic from driving the saw into his body. The other man’s face was split with a smile so grand that it sent horrified tremors up the BLU Medic’s spine. He stared at the man, unable to think of a way out of this situation.

Sure, Pyro had respawned before and he had still been pregnant. This was different though, as Pyro’s physical make up had taken to these body parts naturally. If they were still in Medic’s body and they were still functioning properly, then he did not want to risk losing it. After everything he had been through, if there was a chance the fetus was still alive, then he needed precautions to prevent its untimely demise.

“You’re not making this very fun,” the RED’s smile faded with disappointment, “Perhaps you’ll come back with a better attitude!” That wild grin returned as the RED Medic slashed at him haphazardly.

“No!” the BLU Medic bent one knee and gave the RED a kick in the face.

The RED reeled for a moment but was generally unperturbed. For the time that he was reeling, the BLU Medic took advantage of this as his chance to get some leverage. He bent both knees and thrust both legs out, shoving the man away from him. While the RED Medic was stumbling away, BLU Medic quickly rose to his feet.

“Well, that is a little more like it,” the RED Medic, “I was starting to think you were not so feisty today.”

“My fei- I- you’re- I’m trying not to lose my work here!” the BLU Medic exclaimed.

The RED Medic regarded him with a frown, “What do you mean by _lose your work_? The Administrator is not going to fire you. You’re fine.”

The BLU took his time to breathe and brush the potential splinters off of his hands, “You asked me about a project…and I started one.”

“Oh, you did?” the RED’s smile came back tenfold, “I do really want to discuss it…but as you can…see here…we’re in the middle of something.”

The BLU put a hand on his stomach where the incision was. It did not fully heal yet, since he had only just picked up a medigun this morning. So much for his teammates taking the time to make sure he healed properly.

“Respawn may take it away from me,” the BLU’s voice was a little hoarse, which surprised him.

The RED paused, staring at him for a few moments, “Well, now I _have_ to know.”

The BLU huffed a sigh and said, “Considering the parts I’m using are from another mercenary, it could very well be erased by respawn. Though, I am hoping that his healing has solidified that it is no longer his body parts.”

The RED’s face changed drastically. His jaw dropped. His smile went from wild to gleeful. His eyes were wide with excitement and wonder. The man was an adult child given news of Christmas surprises.

“That is your experiment?! And on yourself?!” the RED asked too loudly.

The BLU hissed, “Do not get us caught. And yes, I am testing with parts from another teammate.”

“On yourself?!” the RED’s voice was a hiss now.

“Yes, on myself,” the BLU sighed.

The RED let out a low whistle. It gained his attention in the form of a glare. The RED was shaking his head all the while.

“What?” BLU Medic demanded.

“Experimenting on yourself,” the RED Medic shook his head again, “You have a lot more breadth in your trousers than I had expected.”

The BLU frowned at his RED counterpart, “Breadth in my trousers?”

“You must have ginormous testicles to undergo surgery yourself…whilst you yourself are the surgeon,” the RED explained.

“Is it not something you have ever tried before?” the BLU inquired.

“Not within good circumstances, no,” the RED shook his head, “I got halfway through a liver transplant before I passed out from the pain. I ended up taking leave to have another surgeon to help me.”

The BLU raised his eyebrows, “Well…” He felt a weird sense of satisfaction knowing that the RED had not even accomplished that. He had done liver transplants many times, specifically for the Demoman. But the removal and implant of reproductive parts had been particularly complicated, especially with forcing space amidst vital organs for the new pieces.

“Well, that’s hardly the start of what I had to put up with for mine,” he laughed, “You passed out from the pain. I had to bear through it just to shuffle my organs!”

“What organ was it that you transplanted?” the RED asked curiously, folding his arms over his chest.

Explosions in the distance caught the BLU’s ear. He would be hard pressed to get back to work. It was only a matter of time before one of the other mercenaries came looking for a Medic, only to find the two in a social conversation.

“Well, now is not the time,” the BLU closed the distance between them. He was careful to keep his intentions discreet. “So, we’ll have to discuss it another time.”

“Ooh! At the spot perhaps?” the RED Medic suggested, “Tonight after supper.”

“That would work,” in one sweeping motion the BLU Medic snatched his saw and slashed through the RED Medic’s front. He cut upward to catch as many vital points as possible.

“Oh…right,” the RED coughed up blood as he fell back.

The BLU Medic chuckled, glad for a little triumph. He might be useless this round, but at least he got to best the RED Medic once this day. It was a boost for his morale.

Medic cleaned up, ate some food and made himself look more casual. He figured he ought to at least show some awareness as to the situation the RED Medic was trying to make. As he adjusted the clean shirt, he noticed that his incision had healed. Prolonged exposure to the medigun did wonders for the body.

After one more once over in the mirror, he grabbed reading materials to base his research on and headed out to the battlements. He kept a wary eye, just in case somebody else came wandering out here. He did not want to be caught meeting up with the enemy by anybody of either team.

When he found his way to the spot, the RED Medic was already there, seated at the giant spool. He was in a button down with a slick blue vest that matched his slacks. He had skipped the sneakers for a pair of clean business shoes. They looked so clean and new, and more along the lines of something a Spy would wear.

The makeshift table now held a game board. The white and black pieces stood ready for action. As if he had forgotten himself, the RED suddenly jolted and straightened up to match the pieces.

“Well, I don’t know what I was expecting,” BLU Medic took a seat across from his RED counterpart. He set the reading material on the edge of the table so as not to disturb the pristine looking game. “It was not this.”

“Ooh! What have you brought?” the RED got out of his seat to reach for the materials. He grabbed the book on top and flopped it open in his hands.

“I suppose you were intending for another game?” the BLU Medic gestured to the game board.

“Well,” the RED Medic chuckled, slowly flipping the page, “I did not want to come here with nothing for us to do. What better way to discuss matters than over a rousing game of chess?”

“I suppose,” the BLU Medic said as he moved one of the white pieces out onto the board.

“Well this all seems to be basic,” the RED said as he closed the book and set it back in the pile, “Are you going to tell me about your project now?” As he spoke, his hand went to the black pieces to make a move.

“Hmm,” the BLU pondered what the RED’s plan of action might be on the board as he made his second move. Once he placed his piece, he pondered what the RED could do with the information he was asking for. “Well, you happened to guess at it before. It is a curious sort of project I suppose.”

“So,” the RED looked to him with slightly widened eyes, with something like delight and curiosity in them, “A man carrying a baby. Who is it? How is the project progressing?”

“Well,” he hesitated at the first question and decided to skip it, “At the moment, there has been a speed bump in the way. I am unsure if it is even viable anymore.” Hearing the words from his mouth, the admission of defeat brought him down harder than a loss on the field.

“Who is it? You can just use the new MRI machine, right?” the RED Medic asked.

The BLU Medic frowned at the RED Medic’s move on the board. He did not care about the game. It had not occurred to him that the RED Medic might have played closer attention to the infirmary upon his visit than he had thought. But how would he know the MRI machine was new?

“Just schedule an appointment with him to have an MRI scan done,” the RED folded his hands, propping his elbows on the makeshift table.

“It’s not so simple,” the BLU sighed, turning his attention to making another move on the chess board.

“It is,” the RED argued, “I have faith that you can make something up to get him into the MRI machine.”

“No, our MRI machine was recently destroyed in a fire,” the BLU explained.

The RED gasped, “It was?!”

The BLU met his eyes, “There was a short in the building’s circuitry. The fire was so bad it killed Pyro.”

“Was he suited?” the RED asked.

“Yes,” he lied.

“What about the man who is pregnant? Did he-” the RED was leaning forward, staring at him intently.

“He did not,” he averted his eyes. His eyes ended up landing on the literature he brought, which only felt worse.

“Okay,” the RED tapped his thumbs together, “Then…what concerns you about the viability of your brilliant project? I’m sure it’s going just fine.”

“There is a chance that the parts were lost to respawn anyways,” he explained, “The viability of internal organs transplanted is questionable anyways.”

“But…this would be parts from an outside donor,” the RED shook his head and raised his hands with a shrug, “There should be no problem.”

“Well…I mean…” the BLU swallowed.

“No need to be anxious about it,” the RED insisted, “You need to have more faith in your own work.”

“I cannot even test though!” Medic exclaimed, “I cannot see if it is growing and progressing normally, let alone if it is viable.”

“Well, if it’s driving you so insane, perhaps you should bring him to the RED base’s infirmary for testing,” the RED Medic explained.

“You have an MRI?” the BLU asked, a little confused. His confusion dissolved as anger rose up. He spent hours on the phone trying to convince the Administrator to get his team an MRI machine. He spent hours pouring over paperwork for that machine. “_Your_ team has an MRI machine?!” he rose to his feet and slammed his hands down on the table.

“Well yes,” the RED blinked up at him, “I was surprised. We never requested it. I had to reorganized _my_ infirmary. Though after seeing your set up, I think you had a better plan of where to put it. I simply was unprepared for it.”

“You…have…an MRI machine,” the BLU sighed.

“You thought your team would be the only one to get it?” the RED inquired.

The BLU sat down with another sigh, “I spent countless hours trying to get that. And she was profuse about not allowing it. I had to fill out paperwork. That came back because she was not satisfied with it. I had to fill it out again, with supplemental material. I had to give a plethora of reasons for the use of it and why we need it.”

“Ah yes, the Administrator has quite the temperamental behavior,” the RED nodded, “But generally, what one team receives, the other gets a copy of.”

“Well,” the BLU Medic huffed, “Isn’t that just peachy?”

“I would say it is quite a delight. Considering how much you’ve put into getting new materials, my infirmary has been filled. Though I do admit it’s been a bit of a struggle. Getting anybody to help move the MRI machine, and do so without breaking it, was a bit of a struggle,” the RED shook his head.

“Pah!” the BLU Medic shifted in his seat. This man had to put so little effort to _get_ that damn machine. Not only was the BLU team short on everything destroyed in the infirmary, his project was short on that machine’s work.

“You said there was a fire in the infirmary?” the RED moved a piece on the board.

The BLU stared at the board as he sighed. He nodded, scanning his pieces as he thought over the best route of attack. He knew his counterpart would already be thinking about what he was planning for.

“How much damage was done? That would be a lot of lost materials. Surely you reported this as a hard loss that affects the team?” the RED insisted.

The BLU Medic thought he detected a hint of worry. He dismissed it. This was the enemy after all. All curiosities aside, everything the RED did was likely to his own benefit. If he showed concern, it was for his own gain.

“Apparently not,” the BLU finally moved a piece.

“Not? Our position is crucial to the team,” the RED did not take a moment to think about his next move before adjusting a piece.

The BLU flinched, staring at the moved piece. Either the RED was acting brashly with the move, or he had already thought of what to do if the BLU made the move he did. He was far ahead and already out of BLU’s league. He would have to think harder if he was going to outsmart this man.

“How could you say any less?” the RED demanded.

“My team won without me around, after a long streak of losses. How do you explain that?” the BLU asked as he pondered his next move. This felt more important now, moving his pieces to dominate his opponent. For once, his own prowess had to mean something.

“The same day you were absent, I was absent,” the RED explained, “My team lost because they were without their Medic. We start at a farther spawn than BLU’s. And when the BLU team has such an advantage of closeness, it becomes too difficult to push. From what I heard, the BLU team had the upper hand when RED did not have me there to save them. It is in the end game, when your team is farther from spawn than mine, that your work becomes more important than mine.”

Finally, the BLU Medic moved his piece. He kept his focus on the board, but he considered the man’s words. He always tried to give his best throughout the day. He always tried to make sure everybody was well healed, but he had never considered what factors changed the importance of that. Perhaps he was just used to the same spawns every day, but it just seemed like a mundane piece of information.

“In the end of the match, I don’t matter,” the RED quickly made his next move. He did not even seem to think about it, being more absorbed in the conversation at hand. “When you’re there at the end though…it changes everything. My team has the upper hand of the respawn being so close, but when you’re there the clincher becomes the fighters themselves. You know, the heavy hitters.”

The BLU made another move, listening intently. It almost seemed like the man had spent a bit of time thinking about this. Perhaps he had done a lot of introspection. How he came upon these results, the BLU was not sure he would ever find out.

“It’s not your fault when the BLU team loses,” the RED quickly made his move, “It is simply a fault of the fight. You do your job well, keeping everybody alive.”

“A nice thought,” the BLU cautiously made another move, “But…your words amount to very little.”

“Is that so?” the RED sighed, as he made another move hastily.

“That is so,” the BLU hesitated as he realized that the RED’s pieces had gone around so many of his pieces that they were close to a check mate. He had to think his way out of it.

“Let’s say if I win this…you have to show me your project,” the RED started up with a grin.

“Huh?” the BLU blinked at him.

“If my words amount to so little, then I must not be very good at this,” the RED gestured to the board, “If you win, I’ll destroy the MRI machine. I’ll call the Administrator. I’ll get her to get us both new machines.”

“And how are you going to convince her of that after destroying it yourself?” the BLU Medic scoffed.

“Don’t be silly! I won’t be so obvious!” the RED laughed.

The BLU reached for a piece to make another move, one that would destroy pieces that were going to ambush his king and queen.

“If I win,” the RED started up, “You have to bring your project to the RED infirmary to show me the results on the MRI!”

The BLU hesitated, halting on his piece. He stared at the board in contemplation. Normally, the long term benefit of having the Administrator replace the MRI machine would be the choice to go with. At the moment though, he felt he was in a pickle with his project. Not knowing was only going to make things worse, and until he could figure out what was going on, he would not be able to rest well.

He moved his piece, but instead of going for the RED’s attacking piece, he went for another piece across the board. He wondered if the RED realized that he had changed his mind. He wondered if he knew that the BLU was smart enough to catch onto what was going on. Going forward, this was all a calculated loss, to gain access to the RED team’s MRI machine.


	17. Drink With Us

The store lights were irritatingly blaring as usual. However, he was eager to grab a few things. There was a coin flip of two possibilities. Either he was pregnant or he was not and he would need a few cases of alcohol to forget this whole project ever started.

“Oh! Hey gramps!” a friendly voice greeted him by the milk fridge.

He turned to see the cashier girl, who was stocking the chips on the other side of the aisle. He lowered his hand from the handle of the fridge and waved to her. “Ah…hello…Cherry, was it?”

She let out a laugh, “You remembered!”

“I may have been drunk, but it was not drunk enough to forget being stupid,” he let out a sigh as he skipped past the milk for the alcohol. There were a lot of selections, but they were out of the big cases.

“You’re not going to drink some more! Are you?” Cherry practically screeched, chip bags flying from her hands.

Medic spun on his heel to face her. The woman had her arms out, flailing in a panic. She reminded him of a bird.

“That depends,” he said hesitantly.

“Oh…I…” Cherry looked around at the mess she had made. She quickly snatched up bags and got to sorting her stock again, “My bad. I’m sorry. I should not have yelled.”

“It’s fine,” he opened the fridge and grabbed a few different beers. He checked the labels to be sure he was getting good stuff. If he was finding out bad news, he was going to need something that would get him hammered. “I’m accustomed to loud noises.”

“A beer or two hear or there is fine, but you really shouldn’t get hammered at every opportunity,” Cherry stood back up as she placed the last of her chip bags on the shelf.

He turned his head to look at her, “Perhaps I’ll get hammered with a friend.”

“Are you listening to me?” she exclaimed.

“I am,” he gave her a nod, before turning his eyes back to the beer label on the top of his selections, “I am just not dissuaded. I don’t normally drink so many times in a week. This time, it might have precedence. Besides…I might be drinking with a friend.”

He paused at that. The RED Medic was far from being a friend. An enemy of his team and a general nuisance at this point, he could not call the RED Medic a comrade in the least. Still, he would be sharing the MRI machine for a quick peak at the BLU Medic’s insides. If anything, he would be taking this beer with him to drink away the memory of the inevitable. The RED would likely demand he share and they would get drunk together.

He never really saw any RED drunk aside from their Demoman. He wondered what they were like. If the RED Medic was anything to go by, it seemed they had a much nicer demeanor towards their Medic. The RED Medic himself seemed rather friendly. Perhaps he would not be a violent drunk like the majority of his own team.

He pictured the RED Medic in his sneakers, bowtie over his whitish pink button down and straps to hold his pants via his shoulders. He imagined this image coming slightly undone from drink, with hints of rouge on the skin and roughed up clothing. A shoulder strap would have fallen eschew, the bowtie might be undone with the top button coming free to give the man some room to breathe and cool down.

He wondered what kind of drunk the RED was. Maybe he was the type of drunk that the BLU Medic liked the most. The kind of drunk who flirted regardless. Maybe he was the type of drunk who threw himself over the nearest human-looking thing and flirted his heart out.

His face was burning when he shook his mind free of these thoughts. No way was he letting his mind traverse down that path. It was bad enough imagining the enemy this way. But taking advantage of a situation in which the RED Medic might be a flirtatious drunk would cross a line of morality that the BLU Medic was simply unwilling to cross.

“Look, this is serious,” Cherry approached him empty handed, “You can’t let your life spin out of control like this, gramps.”

“I am not spinning out of control,” he looked at her, puzzled at her words.

“You just got hammered like four days ago at my house,” she relented, “You can’t just bounce right back into a session of over-drinking again!”

“Why not?” he almost laughed, thinking of how many tales he could recount to her of the men he had to tend to because of their excessive drinking. He was just here to get the good drink.

“Because!” she exclaimed, “Because people care about you. Because…there are people who look to you. There are people who are hurt when you hurt yourself. If you don’t take care of yourself, and care about yourself, then who will? You cannot give in to drinking!”

“Give in to drinking?” he looked down at the beers, “Is beer an antagonistic person now?”

“Oh come on! You gotta understand it! I’ve volunteered with Alcoholics Anonymous. They’re a really great group if you want to join. They can really help you!” Cherry pleaded with him.

He chuckled softly, “Look, you’re sweet. I can see you’re trying to do something kind, but you’re really barking up the wrong tree with this.”

“There you are, Cherry!” a voice carried loudly as a figure came around the end of the aisle.

He looked to see a familiar face. It was one of the women that Cherry lived with, tailed by another woman Cherry lived with. He recognized the tall brunette, whose hair was done up in a braid that rested over her shoulder.

“Dolly…and…” he paused, squinting at the first woman. The woman fixed him with a narrow glare, like a snake daring him to try and take its head off. “You know what? Never mind.”

“Oh, it’s Mr. Handsome again,” Dolly said with a playful giggle.

“Ah yea, Mr. Crash-on-my-Couch-for-Free,” the other woman rolled her eyes.

Medic clapped his hands together, “Sapphire. It was Sapphire, right?”

Sapphire had a mischievous grin on her face, “Well, look at you! Able to remember names you learned the day after getting trashed!”

He looked her up and down, trying to get a better idea of what kind of person she was. He remembered her as the most antagonistic person he met that morning. She seemed like the type who would have a hard time socializing. It was difficult to imagine her managing a positive relationship with Cherry, based on the girl’s nature.

“Don’t be so mean,” Dolly touched her lips as she looked to Sapphire, “He’s just a grandpa. Not a little grandpa, but he’s still a grandpa.”

“I’m…not a grandfather,” Medic protested.

“You girls wouldn’t want your grandfather to get wasted again just a few days after getting hammered, would you?” Cherry turned to them. The two girls shook their heads in response. “Help me convince him not to drink again.”

“You’re not talking me out of buying some good liquor,” he pursed his lips as the three of them turned to him, “Look, I’m not drinking this alone. Based on how tomorrow goes, I am either getting a life changing success…or my world is ending and there’ll be no point in keeping my liver. So, I need this.”

“If you’re going to get wasted on good liquor anyways, then come over and share. It’s the least you could do for crashing on the couch,” Sapphire gestured to his basket of alcoholic drinks.

“No, I’m sharing this with somebody else,” he protested.

“Ooh! Somebody special?” Dolly cooed.

“What? No!” he tried not to think of the RED Medic drunkenly slurring and smiling with a red face.

“Ooh! Look how red his face is!” Dolly pointed to his face.

Sapphire pointed as well, “It so is! So it’s a _get laid_ or _die_ kind of night. I take it?”

“You are a very crass young lady,” he squinted at Sapphire.

“I just call it like I see it,” Sapphire was beaming at the accusation. She almost seemed to revel in the thought of being called crass. Or perhaps she was normally like this and thus was never called a lady. He could not be certain which was the truth. “Besides, you are kind of old to be drinking so heavily,” Sapphire went on, “You should cut your liver some slack. If you wanna live long enough to be the oldest man alive to bone, you gotta keep the ticker ticking and the liver…doing whatever it is that it does.”

“It breaks down digested fats and changes excess carbohydrates and proteins so they may be stored for later use, synthesize other fats such as cholesterol and produces bile to help break down and absorb fat. This bile is what removes wastes and toxins from the body,” he explained.

“Ew!” Sapphire cringed, raising her arm as if to protect herself from being hit by something.

“That’s disgusting,” Dolly added, whilst cringing with Sapphire, “The liver makes you vomit?”

“What?” he blinked at her, “No. It doesn’t make you vomit. It creates bile to break down waste and- You do realize that there are different kinds of bile, right?”

“That um…scientific lesson aside,” Cherry interrupted, “Gramps, why don’t you put the liquor back? You can have a party with popcorn, chips and dip! Just throw in some soft drinks and you’re good to go!”

“This is not a party,” he scoffed, “And I am not a grandfather. Do not call me gramps.”

“Whatever you say, gramps,” Sapphire smirked.

“Ooh!” Dolly grabbed a bag of chips off the shelf, popped it open and began munching.

“You have to pay for those,” Cherry pointed at the bag.

“Yea, I’m just gonna snack and I’ll bring the bag to the counter when we’re done here,” Dolly said through a mouthful of chips.

“You aren’t helping, so you can take those to the counter right now,” Cherry shook a finger at Dolly.

“Oh come on,” Sapphire chuckled, “You’re no fun. Don’t rain on the grandpa’s parade.”

“I am not a- Never mind. You’re all less than helpful,” he turned and made his way down the aisle.

He heard the clicking of shoes behind him. It sounded a bit too clipped to be the sneakers that Cherry was wearing. He glanced over his shoulder to see that Sapphire and Dolly were following him in black heeled boots. He stopped and turned to them. Dolly reeled back, looking abashed at following him. Sapphire merely smirked and crossed her arms.

“So what? You gonna party?” Sapphire asked, still painting her devilish grin.

“I thought you hated me,” he growled, “What happened to that?”

“What? Now you’re too good to be picked on?” Sapphire asked, still smirking.

“Sapphire, let’s just go and leave him alone,” Dolly put a hand on her friend’s shoulder.

“You should take your friend’s advice,” he pointed to Dolly as he met Sapphire’s gaze, “I’m bad news.”

Sapphire rolled her eyes, “Oh, so you’re a bad boy? Wanna rev your engine my way? You’d be my type if not for all the gray hair.”

Medic flinched. Perhaps he had been around other men too long. Men did not tend to mention each other’s appearances. He was aware of the silver in his hair, but it had not bothered him before hearing it from her mouth.

“Sapphire, that’s mean,” Dolly shook Sapphire’s shoulder.

Cherry rounded the end of the aisle and ran towards them, “Hey! Stop picking on grandpa! He’s still a customer!”

“Oh come on, Cherry,” Sapphire rounded on the other woman, “You were harping on us about getting grandpa not to drink himself into another stupor!”

“Well, I didn’t mean for you to be an asshole about it,” Cherry argued.

“Why don’t we compromise?” Dolly suggested.

“I’m listening,” Sapphire looked to Dolly.

“I’m not, bye,” Medic turned with his basket and hurried off. Maybe it was time for him to get to the front counter and pay for his things. This was all getting too awkward.

“Wait up!” Cherry called.

“Hey! If you’re going to drink, then come drink with us!” Dolly’s long legs easily caught up to him despite her boots.

“Why would I want to do that?” he shot a glare over his shoulder, namely aiming it for Sapphire. Cherry seemed to think it was for her too. “You’ve all been less than pleasant company.”

“You can’t be that bothered by Sapphire,” Dolly insisted, “That’s just the way she is. Grouchy, usually salty and always trying to hit people with hot spice.”

“I do not!” Sapphire shouted.

“But,” Dolly put a hand on his shoulder, “It’s all well-intended ribbing. We just don’t want to see you get hurt because of…whatever is going on in your life.”

“I don’t know any of you,” he glanced between the other two women and Dolly, “Your well-meant ribbing comes off as sadistic taunting. And I don’t believe any of you for a moment about giving a shit about somebody. I’m a stranger to you.”

“I mean, would it make it less awkward if I gave you a BJ?” Sapphire gestured with her hand.

Medic reeled back as he turned to watch Sapphire’s hand gesturing. In no way would he let a woman touch him like that. But it only added another complicated level of confusion onto the pile of Medic’s frustrations with Sapphire’s behavior.

“Or do you have a group of friends who are all sunshine and rainbows who won’t convince you to do something stupid while you’re drunk?” Cherry finally stepped up.

Medic sighed and raised a hand, “I appreciate what you’re-”

He did not finish his sentence before the front door beeped, announcing somebody’s arrival. He was interrupted by the voice that accompanied it. “Hey Che-” There was a dramatic gasp that made his head spin to look. It was the shortest of their group, with big eyes staring at him now. “Grampy!” she dropped her bag as she sprinted across the store with more speed than he had ever seen in somebody so small. He was too shocked to flee, and once she had her arms around him, he could not wriggle free.

“I’m so happy to see you!” the shorter woman said, squeezing him tightly.

“Yes, it’s very nice,” he grunted through her squeezing. Fortunately, at her height, she was unable to squeeze his ribs, so he could breathe freely. Still, she was very strong and it was a little uncomfortable.

“Aww, Lolly loves you,” Sapphire taunted, “Maybe you like short girls?”

“What are you talking about?” he turned to Sapphire with frustration.

“I’m just saying, every guy has his thing,” Sapphire had a wicked smirk across her face.

“If you’re going to drink anyways, why not drink with new friends?” Dolly suggested.

“Yea! I get off in a few minutes,” Cherry added, “We can all head back to the house and eat that chicken grilled.”

“Chicken grilled?” Lolly asked.

“Yea? Remember? I said ‘let’s grill the chicken’ this morning?” Cherry replied.

“Oh, oops,” Lolly suddenly released Medic.

“What do you mean? Oops?” Cherry asked. Sapphire snickered and Dolly averted her eyes.

“I forgot to thaw the meat,” Lolly offered an apologetic smile and a shrug.

“Lolly!” Cherry exclaimed.

“Oooh, better run home and fix it, Lollipop,” Sapphire cut in, “Cherry’s gonna get you.”

“What? No, I’m not,” Cherry protested.

“You can’t fool us in front of the grandpa,” Sapphire threw a thumb towards Medic.

“I am not the grandpa,” Medic growled.

“You are very much the grandpa,” Sapphire told him sternly.

“Is the grandpa coming over for drinks?” Lolly asked.

“We’re trying,” Dolly answered.

“Try harder!” Lolly threw her arms around Medic’s waist again, “Grandpa, come over for drinks! We’ll have chicken and a party!”

“Not if the chicken isn’t thawed,” Cherry said scornfully.

“Well, I don’t know what you want me to do about that,” Lolly responded.

“Go buy chicken breasts,” Cherry told her, “You owe us chicken since you didn’t do the one thing to help prepare it.”

“But we have chicken at home!” Lollipop argued.

“And it’s frozen. Good going, Lolly,” Sapphire taunted.

“Just go grab some chicken and we’ll meet you at home,” Dolly suggested.

“No! You’re my ride home!” Lolly pleaded.

“Well, get grandpa to drive you back,” Cherry suggested.

“Grandpa, will you drive me over to a store to get chicken and to the house so we can chill?” Lolly pleaded with her chin pressed to his abdomen.

“What actually is this?” Medic asked.

“Please? Please please please?” Lolly begged.

“She’s not going to stop until you agree to take her,” Sapphire chuckled.

“Okay! Okay! Fine! Fine!” he pushed Lolly’s shoulders, “Just let go of me!”

“Aww,” Lolly whined.

“You go get the chicken, we’ll start the vegetables at home-” Dolly was counting off things to do on her fingers when the store’s door beeped.

They all turned their heads to see a man in the same store uniform as Cherry. He paused, looking at the lot of them. Like a deer in the headlights, he stood there and said nothing.

“You coming in for your shift, Nathan?” Cherry asked.

Nathan nodded. He finally shook off whatever had petrified him and proceeded to make his way to the front counter. Medic took up the idea to go to the counter as well.

“Finally! I’m off!’ Cherry darted to a staff room door, disappearing from sight.

Medic placed his basket on the register counter with a frown. She should have checked him out first. Now he had to wait. Now he had to stand around while Nathan took his sweet time with getting everything ready before he started scanning the items.

Medic paid and quickly scurried out of the store. He lengthened his stride as he reached the outdoors. He had not realized how claustrophobic he had become while being in the store. He must have been so distracted by the women who had pounced on him that he did not notice how they had affected him.

He reached the door to his car just as he realized that there was another set of footsteps following him. He turned with his hand on the handle to see Lolly standing there. She put her hands behind her back, as if waiting patiently as she stared up at him. She had a small contented smile as she waited for him.

“What are you doing?” he demanded.

“You said you’d drive me to a store to get chicken,” she said before turning on a whine in her tone, “You promised!”

“But…I…” he looked to the door he was about to open and then back to her, “I have things to do!”

“You’re going drinking,” she pressed, “That doesn’t seem like things to do.”

“It’s for later tonight,” he insisted.

“Well, that’s later tonight,” she pressed, “Come eat with us, then your stomach will be full for drinking.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but found himself hesitating. That was not a bad idea. In fact, that was probably the smart way to go about things. He was often left without much to eat because of his thoughtless coworkers, so he might as well get something to eat. Drinking alcohol on an empty stomach might actually make him sick, especially with how drunk he was ready to get if the project was a bust.

“Let’s go get that chicken!” she grabbed the door handle and threw open the door to climb into the back seat.

He stood there for a moment, considering his options. It was different to be considered by these women this way. He did not think any of his coworkers even thought about what he was doing. These women, complete strangers to him, worried that he might drink until he committed something stupid.

“Come on!” she closed the door and settled into her seat with bouncing. She reminded him of Pyro a little bit, when Pyro was in a particularly good mood.

“Alright,” he sighed, “Let’s go get chicken.”


	18. House Party

Gathered at the side of the house around a barbeque with some old plastic chairs, the girls who lived at the house chattered relentlessly. Since arriving, Medic had felt out of place. It was not that he was unwelcome. Rather, it was a strange surreal feeling about being welcomed by a bunch of strangers.

He sat with Lolly perched on his knee. It was a particularly weird situation that he could not decide if he was comfortable with. She could steal one of the other seats, but with only four chairs, there were not enough seats for everybody to have their own place. Lolly being the smallest compromised by sharing space. She had been latched onto him since they arrived from the store.

“Where do you live at? Do you live around here?” Lolly asked him, twisting around on his knee.

“I live a long distance drive from here,” he explained, “But this is the closest town.”

“Ah, so the middle of ass fuck nowhere,” Lolly nodded, “Gotcha!”

“Do any of you _not_ curse?” he inquired.

“Hmm,” Lolly hummed before raising her voice to be heard by the rest, “Hey! Who is the least crass of us?”

Cherry and Sapphire immediately pointed to Dolly. Dolly looked between them, quite bewildered at the accusation. She blinked at Lolly, as if looking for an answer.

“Oh yea,” Lolly giggled, “Dolly curses the least of any of us.”

“The only one who goes to church,” Sapphire added.

“What does that have to do with it?” Dolly protested.

“You’re always trying to hold up those godly values your preacher goes on and on about,” Sapphire snorted.

“What does that have to do with it? What does that have to do with anything?” Dolly whined in protest.

“You’re so worried about what your church groups think,” Cherry chuckled, “You won’t even let your tongue slip up at home.”

“Not even a little bit,” Lolly agreed.

“So? I don’t want to make anybody at church upset! So what?” Dolly argued.

There was some giggling. Medic said nothing. He did not have any particular opinion about religion. It kept people in their traditional ways. It typically aligned with values not akin to his own. People would get in the way of his values regardless of religion or not, so he did not care.

“But we’re at home, Dolly,” Sapphire shook Dolly’s arm, “Come on! Let out a swear!”

“No!” Dolly protested curtly.

“Come on!” Sapphire pleaded.

“Stop!” Dolly barked.

“Are they always like this?” Medic asked Lollipop.

“Hmm…” Lollipop hummed, “I think they’re hamming it up a bit ‘cause grampy is here.”

“I am not-” he sighed in frustration. He was unlikely to ever win with the naming game.

“So gramps, are you married? Have a girlfriend?” she let out a cute little gasp, “Are you an aging playboy who’s struggling to get back in the game?!”

“What?” he blinked at her, staring at her awestruck expression. He did not even know how to respond to her questioning.

“What’s your relationship status?” Sapphire cut into the conversation, “She wants to know if you’re in a relationship or not.”

“I’m not interested in one with you,” he raised his hands to ward them off, “No, thank you.”

“It’s an interest in information,” Sapphire giggled, “Calm down. Nobody’s going to push you into doing anything.”

“I’m not…in a relationship,” he finally admitted. He was not sure why it was so hard to say, but he averted his eyes as he spoke.

“Are you a playboy?” Lolly poked his palm with a finger playfully.

“What? Obviously he’s not,” Sapphire spoke up.

“Why would you say that? It’s not obvious,” Lollipop argued, “For all we know, he could be. He’s cute enough. I could see dating grandpa. I don’t know…I think there’s plenty of women who’d date him. Besides, there are even older women.”

“I don’t date women,” he was not sure why he let it slip but out it came. The shock of it came so fast that he put a hand over his mouth before he thought to play it off.

Lollipop took in a long breath, creating a long and exasperated gasp. She did not let the breath out, holding it for as long as it took him to finally meet her gaze. She let it out very suddenly, as if she had been held underwater.

“Grandpa, are you gay?” Lollipop asked.

“Lolly!” Cherry scorned, “You don’t just ask somebody if they’re gay. What’s wrong with you?”

“Yea, why would you put him on the spot like that? That’s not okay,” Sapphire’s tone shifted. She sounded very serious about this.

“What?” Lolly scoffed at them before turning her attention back to him.

Medic bit his tongue. He was not sure how to share this kind of information. It was the kind of thing that men remained hushed about. If one became open about these things, then he risked a lot of the things in his life.

Lolly bat her eyes at him. He could tell she was not just blinking. She pushed out her lower lip and leaned towards him, her palms holding her weight up on his thigh as she moved her face closer.

“You can tell me, grandpa,” she said, in a meek little voice, “I won’t tell.”

“I am _not_ your grandpa,” he told her sternly.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me, grandpa,” she scooted up his lap and cuddled up against him. He was not sure how to respond to this.

“Oh my g- Lolly, you are embarrassing,” Cherry said as she shared a chortle with the other women.

Lolly tried to wrap her short arms around his ribcage, to no avail. “I just want grandpa to know he’s in a safe place to share anything he wants about himself.”

“I barely know you,” he told her pointedly.

“And I barely know you,” Lollipop craned her neck to look up at him, “But I want to get to know you.”

“Aww, that’s disgustingly cute,” Sapphire put her hand over her mouth to suppress more laughter.

“Shush! Shut up!” Lollipop harrumphed as she laid her head against his chest, “How dare you make fun!”

“We’re just…you’re kind of being weird, Lolly,” Cherry insisted, “I mean, you just crawled onto his lap and he looks super uncomfortable with being cuddled like that.”

“You kind of look like a needy child,” Dolly admitted, “No offense.”

“All the offense!” Lollipop gasped, “Fuck you, Dolly! Of all people to say that! Fuck you!”

“It’s just…you’re acting weird, you’re really small, and by comparison you’re like child sized,” Cherry gestured between Lollipop and the Medic.

“If I may? I don’t know you and you are a complete stranger to me. So crawling on me like this has hit very strange levels of discomfort and I am not comfortable with this going forward.

“I mean, Dolly kind of has a point,” Sapphire said quietly to Cherry. Clearly he was not meant to be able to overhear this. “Doesn’t she look like a little kid in her grandfather’s lap?”

“Ooh! I need to grab my phone!” Dolly suddenly trotted into the house.

“Why?” Cherry asked.

“I need a picture of this!” Dolly called over her shoulder as she headed into the house.

Medic was not sure how a phone associated to pictures. Then again, perhaps Dolly had simply made a mistake by saying phone instead of camera. Either way, he did not want this to be on camera. So he started prying the small hands from behind his back.

“Clearly you do not get it, as you think being tiny dismisses you from your behavior,” Medic told Lollipop scornfully, “I am a total stranger. A gay, very capable of violence homosexual. I do not appreciate a small woman climbing on my lap.”

Lollipop whimpered as she climbed off his lap, “Okay. But if I was a man-”

“No! Absolutely not!” he protested. He did not want to imagine her as a man. He could not actually imagine her as a man, as she would probably look more like a boy and that seemed weird.

“Just hypothetically,” she persisted, “If there was a man my stature who wanted to climb on your lap and cuddle you, would you?”

“NO!” he raised his voice.

“Then, are you even gay?” Sapphire inquired.

“N- Yes! I am gay! Are you happy? I am gay. I like men. No, I do not like small men. I like large husky men who can grow some hair on their chins,” he rose from the chair now that there was no longer a person on his lap. He threw his arms into the air in exasperation. “I do _not_ like men who look like they could be children. That is disgusting!”

He was surprised by arms wrapped around his leg. He looked down to see Lollipop hugging his thigh. “I’m glad you’ve shared this with us, grandpa. And speaking for myself, you are loved and appreciated. Okay?” Lolly smiled up at him warmly, as if she had not been completely rejected.

“Okay, I got the- aww!” Dolly came out of the front door and around to their side of the house with disappointment in her voice when she saw Medic standing.

“You were too slow, Doll,” Sapphire chuckled, shaking her head.

Medic took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh, “None of you are going to listen to me, are you?”

“We know we’re weird,” Cherry spoke up, “But we’re trying to make you feel welcome.” Cherry shrugged as she turned to the barbeque to turn the chicken. “Lollipop is weird, but she’s just trying to help you feel welcome here. We really don’t bite or anything,” Cherry insisted.

“You have no idea what I am capable of, though,” Medic argued.

“No, but that comes from getting to know other people,” Cherry shrugged again.

“For the record, _they’re_ the ones who want you here,” Sapphire gestured to the other three women.

Medic rolled his eyes, “Noted.”

“You don’t _have_ to be like that,” Lolly said to Sapphire.

“And _you_ also don’t have to be like that,” Sapphire gestured between Lollipop and Medic.

“Jeez, why are you so against being friends?” Lollipop asked.

“Why are you so trusting of a total stranger that Cherry brought home drunk off his ass?!” Sapphire raised her voice a bit.

“Why do you have to be so distrusting of anybody else’s judgment? Can’t you just trust your friends for once?” Lollipop was not raising her voice but the desperation was growing.

“_I_ don’t have to trust your judgment, because I already know a bad situation when I see one!” Sapphire countered.

“She does have a point,” Medic gestured to Sapphire as he looked to Lollipop, “I could be a serial killer and you wouldn’t know.”

“Shush! This is not about you,” Lollipop told him.

“Actually it-” she cut him off with a hiss.

She reached up as high as she could and put her hand on him, “Just shhh.”

He frowned down at her, “But you’re not-”

“No,” she patted him with the upraised hand.

“Get off my leg,” he tried to push her away.

“You’re clinging to the leg of a stranger like he’s your grandpa,” Sapphire said in a sarcastic tone.

“You call him grandpa too though!” Lollipop pointed at the taller woman in accusation.

“That’s because he’s old and gray,” Sapphire gestured to the Medic.

“Hey!” he protested.

“Sorry, white,” Sapphire gestured around her ears.

“Hey!” Lollipop barked, “Don’t make fun of him! The silver sideburns are sexy on him!”

“Yea, seriously Sapphire,” Cherry added, “Don’t.”

“Oh, now you’re on _my_ case? Where were you when Lolly was all over his lap?” Sapphire turned to face Cherry squarely.

“Don’t get pissy at me,” Cherry protested, “I’m just trying to keep the peace. And you’re not being very nice to gramps.”

“I’m not gramps! I don’t want a small woman all over me! And you have no room to talk with your buck teeth!” he pointed at Sapphire.

Shocked, all Sapphire could think to do was cover her mouth. She stared at him. They all stared at him. He was surprised that his outburst had not pushed Lollipop away. She was still clinging to his thigh.

“Let go!” he turned to look down at her.

“Calm down, please,” Lollipop spoke calmly and gently, “I understand that you’re upset. We-”

He did not let her finish. The moment her grip loosened from him, he turned and walked quickly to the front of the house. He trotted to his car and got in. He was just putting the key in the ignition when it occurred to him that he did not know why he was running away. In fact, why was he so frustrated? He was not entirely sure why. He lived his life in far more frustrating and stressful situations and he did not react to those. In fact, he managed to keep his cool when he was angry.

He could face madmen with guns and muscles that he could not beat. He kept his cool amidst men who made his life hell. He kept anxiety and frustration under control in the heat of the moment so he could do his job properly. He could do all of that, so why he was running away did not make sense to him.

He took a deep breath as he turned off the car. He let it out slowly, counting down from ten to zero. He closed his eyes to let his mind have a minute to think on nothing. He wanted to think about nothing but the numbers as he counted down. He wanted to focus only on this one task.

When he opened his eyes, he did not feel entirely recovered, but it was better. Whatever had overcome him to send him fleeing had calmed down. He was not in any form of danger, nor did he feel he had anything to be angry about. He just needed this time to clear his head that was all.

He took another breath and opened the door. He removed the key from the ignition before he climbed out of the car. When he closed the door, he found that Lollipop was standing near the front of the car. She had one hand on her opposite arm and her brow was furrowed with what he thought was worry. Her eyes followed him, though she said nothing.

He locked the car and tucked the key away, before he approached her. He dropped down to her eye level to speak to her properly, “I don’t like being clung to.”

“I’m sorry,” she said softly, “I should have listened the first time you said- anything.”

He patted her shoulder before rising to his full height. He offered a hand to her, “Let’s go back to the barbeque.”

“Are you mad?” she asked.

“No,” he took another breath, just to assure himself that he was calm, “I just needed a minute.”

“Okay,” she took his hand and they made their way back to the barbeque.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there was recently a confusion as somehow my chapters became shuffled. They are now in proper order. My apologies for that


	19. Hormones Just No

Medic pulled his car up and put it in park. This was not where he normally parked, but it would do. He wanted to put it somewhere safe where it was not immediately visible. If any of his coworkers wondered where he was, they would assume he was in town. He swallowed his nerves as he grabbed the paper bags of glass bottles. The liquid sloshed as he walked, reminding him of their fragility. Their presence made him worry a little bit.

The closer he drew to the RED base, the more his nerves grew taut. His heart began to race as he realized that he was underprepared for a situation like this. There were RED mercenaries crawling everywhere around here. Any of them could spot him and attack him. He would be defenseless and not have a way to escape with his expensive haul of alcohol.

Still, he trudged onward. This would be his only option of getting use of that machine. In the meantime, he convinced himself that if any other REDs did bother him, he would buy them off with a bottle of booze.

Following his feet sufficed, as this base had the exact same layout as his own base. With that in mind, he found the infirmary almost immediately. It was easy to walk right in and find his way there.

He quietly pushed open the door and peeked inside. The RED Medic was silently pouring over some papers on his desk. His face was fixed in concentration as he wrote out something on the paper. He looked like the embodiment of a busy man.

He shifted the paper bags’ handles to one hand so he could knock his knuckles against the door. The man’s head shot up as did his eyebrows. His eyes lit up when they landed on the BLU Medic. He shot out of his chair as that fixed expression softened into a widening grin.

“Ah! Good to see you! I was starting to think you wouldn’t come,” the RED peeked curiously at the brown bags.

“I bring peaceful offerings,” the BLU placed the bags on the desk, “And possibly a way to drown if this experiment is a bust.”

“Don’t say that!” the RED protested. He paused to lick his lips. He was glancing up and down at the BLU. “So, if I’ve put everything together correctly, you’ve done this experiment on yourself? Something is alive in you?”

The BLU cleared his throat and made his way towards the other side of the infirmary. Unlike his own, it was a travesty of a mess. Nothing was properly organized. The beds were not sorted, some of them eschew and in weird positions around other equipment. Filing cabinets were put in random places, as were boxes. The MRI machine itself was a little out of the way and almost buried behind things. He quickly got to work on moving things out of the way.

“Ah, I hadn’t thought of moving everything out of the way,” the RED chuckled awkwardly.

“A travesty,” the BLU replied, as he cleared a path and some space around the machine. He turned it on and it hummed to life without question.

“So, do I get any other details about this before we begin? It’ll take a while to get warmed up,” the RED inquired as he approached the BLU from behind.

The BLU Medic turned around and cleared his throat, “It’s a fairly straightforward procedure. Theoretically, if everything has gone well, I am pregnant.”

“Pregnant? But the hormone balance would be different. Shouldn’t we use blood tests instead of an MRI?” the RED inquired.

The BLU Medic chewed on the inside of his lip, “I’m afraid that it might not be enough to tell.”

“So, how…how did you go about this?” the RED pressed, “Unless you were born with the parts, they had to have come from elsewhere yes?”

“Yes, I put the parts into myself. I was not born with them,” he rolled his eyes at that last part, “At the time of transfer, the womb was with fetus and the pregnancy was already confirmed with testing.”

“MRI seems a bit much,” the RED sounded hesitant to him.

“You’re backing out now?” the BLU squinted at the RED.

“I am aware of how pregnancies work,” the RED explained, “I had not considered an actual human pregnancy. If it is determinately a human pregnancy, an MRI machine could be…a bit much. I suppose I went off the deep end with imagining what alien creature you had implanted into your own body.”

“Not an alien,” the BLU waved off the suggestion, “Just a human parasite…a fetus.” He turned his attention to the MRI machine, as it was ready to start working.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” the RED pressed, “And risk…well I’m not entirely sure how much of a risk it is. But it’s a bit of a risk, don’t you think?”

“You are a medical professional and you do not know the risks?” the BLU shot him a smug glance over his shoulder. He began unlacing his shoes to remove them.

“Well…I don’t necessarily make use of the MRI machine often,” the RED explained.

The BLU sighed and shook his head, “I’ve already calculated risks. It’s one I have to take.”

He removed his shoes and laid down on the machine. He looked to the RED, waiting for him to activate the machine. He silently wondered how much the RED had actually studied and practiced in the medical field, if he was unaware that there were no found significant risks to pregnancies in an MRI.

“Very well,” the RED started up the machine, and it began moving him into its maw-like opening, “Let’s begin.”

After so long of just trying to lie still, the BLU Medic was happy to finally be out of the damn machine. He was tying up his shoes, when the RED Medic came to hover nearby. He had donned his usual grin and he held his hands behind his back.

“Congratulations! You are a proud mommy to be!” the RED’s words almost sounded taunting.

The BLU looked up at him and frowned, “I am not a mother. I would be a father.”

“Are you the sperm donor of the child?” the RED asked.

“I am not, and the donor is unknown,” the BLU admitted. He finished tying his shoes and stood up.

“I was wondering,” the RED spoke a little hesitantly, “You mentioned before that this was from another mercenary. It doesn’t make a lot of sense, but what parts did you use from another colleague that required that worry? I mean, I don’t think I’d be able to guess and I personally wouldn’t use parts from any of the men here, si-”

The BLU grabbed the other man by his face, clamping his pal over the RED Medic’s mouth. He waited for a moment as the RED stared back at him in silence. He let the silence prevail for a few more moments.

“That is classified. Do not ask about that,” he told the man sternly.

The RED’s eyes widened and he pushed the hand away, “Did you steal them?”

“No,” the BLU replied sternly, “I did no such thing.”

The RED sighed, “Well, congratulations anyways. You have a baby growing in you.”

The BLU grinned and grabbed a bottle from one of the bags. He handed it to the RED with a smile on his face, “You’ll be drinking for two then.”

The RED quirked an eyebrow, hesitantly accepting the bottle. He was looking at the label, but his hesitance seemed out of character. It caused the hair on the back of the BLU Medic’s neck to rise.

“I don’t think I should drink,” the RED walked to the desk and set the bottle down.

Something raw deep in him ached with the disappointment that he would not get to witness what he had been planning. He chewed on his lip, watching the RED Medic. He was uncharacteristically slow, moving as if he was not thinking about what he was doing, moving as if his mind was elsewhere.

“Do you not trust me while you’re drunk,” the BLU laughed. He reminded himself that this was not to take advantage of him, he just thought it would be interesting to see the RED in a state of intoxication and to know what he is like in that state. “I did not plan anything.”

The RED let out a huff of a laugh, something like a “heh” as he turned back to the BLU Medic. His eyes had a sobering look. He looked the most serious BLU had ever seen him. He did not look anything like the blood lusting creature seeking to rend his enemy limb from limb for fun. It was far more terrifying like this and the BLU took a step away from him.

“Did you plan any hormone treatments? Did you start anything?” the RED frowned, “I still think we should do a blood test. Your body would not be releasing the necessary hormones the way a…a woman’s body would. If you get the gist.”

The BLU Medic frowned at him. This was a time for celebration and he was going to nag him about treatments? This seemed far and beyond what he was planning for this.

“You could lose the baby any moment now,” the RED said, running a hand up through his hair, “You could have sudden issues. A miscarriage is not out of the question. It could be painful and dangerous to your health. Have you considered what your body may be doing to it?”

The BLU Medic hesitated. He opened his mouth a few times, but it was hard to choose a word to say. He was not sure what to counter all of this with. The RED was terrifyingly different, and if not for the building frustration that his alcohol was going to waste, the BLU might otherwise agree. He was not here to be lectured though. This was _his_ experiment to deal with.

“You should be on hormones and prenatals,” the RED waved a finger in the air as he strolled across the room. He shoved several beds aside, ignoring where they went as he dove into a cabinet.

The BLU watched the man, glaring at his back. This was a weird predicament. Being lectured by his counterpart was not pleasant and he wanted to throw fists for it. If not for the anxiety building up alongside frustration, he would have a few words to say. Maybe just a thrust of his knuckles to the man’s face would be enough before simply leaving. He was not obligated to be here, anyways.

“Here it is!” the RED Medic exclaimed.

Curious, the BLU Medic waited, as the RED returned. He had to squeeze past the beds, which rolled wildly around without a care. He was carrying a brown package that had been torn open already. He brought it to the desk and began rummaging through it, pulling out papers and silver slabs of tablets.

“What is all this?” the BLU inquired.

“It’s from when we had a prior…mercenary…being treated,” the RED explained slowly, “She isn’t here anymore, but these were part of her treatment. Hormone balancers and the like. This will do.”

“What now?” the BLU was reeling at the reveal that a prior mercenary had been female and the RED still had the prescription lying around.

“She was moved to another base,” the RED explained, “You can use these now.” He held out the slabs of tablets to the BLU.

Refusing to just be expected to do as he was told, the BLU Medic smacked the tablets out of the RED’s hand. The slabs fell onto the desk and the RED stared at his now empty hand blankly. There were a few moments of silence before the BLU managed to muster up his words.

“Don’t _assume_ anything,” he told the RED firmly, “These are a prescription for hormones in a woman. I am not a woman.”

The RED was still not looking at him as he spoke, “Well, she was not female by birth, these were to ad-”

The BLU cut him off, “They are intended for the use of adjusting to a woman’s normal hormonal balance.”

“Uh huh,” the RED nodded, finally bringing his eyes to meet the BLU Medic’s gaze.

“I am not taking hormones for that,” he told the RED sternly, “I don’t know what you think is medical practice, but this is medical _mal_practice. I am not a woman. I am not transforming into a woman. I most certainly will not take advice or hormones from somebody who has confused this for that.”

The RED blinked at him, “Wait! But you nee-”

The BLU Medic spun on his heel and marched from the infirmary and down the hall of the RED base. He could hear the distant laughter of the other RED mercenaries. It sounded like some of them had gathered for target practice.

He ignored the noise, hurrying off to the battlements between the bases. He followed his feet as he made his way to the BLU base. As he drew closer to the base, he slowed his brisk walk to a moderate pace. He breathed carefully, trying to focus on breathing slowly.

Medic realized that he did it again. It all built up and while last time he was able to calm down in the car before returning to the gathering, this time he had had no such luxury. It had been too close to the enemy. He had been too far in the RED’s territory. He dared not think how things could have gone if the RED decided to enforce his own ideas about this experiment.

True, he did need to balance his hormones. He worried now that he realized he had not thought about it prior to now. It was rather stupid that he was not working on that already. On the other hand, the RED thought the way to handle it was just to go on and put him on female hormones? That was leagues different from pregnancy hormones. Besides, the idea was not to perfectly replicate a female experience in a male body. It was to try and grow a fetus from inside a male body.

He put the RED Medic out of his mind as he made his way to the infirmary. He would not be able to get the thoughts out of his head if he did not do something. He got straight to work on digging up everything he had. He did not have female hormones, but he did have the prenatals that the pyro was supposed to be taking.

Just for curiosity’s sake, he decided that he would also do a blood test. He did _not_ need the RED’s infirmary for that. That was something he could do himself.


	20. Not the Way You Want

Medic leaned back in his seat as he massaged the bridge of his nose. The phone was starting to feel like a pain against the cartilage of his ear, pinching the skin against the side of his head. His body felt like it needed to stretch, but he knew if he moved just a little, his body would tell him that he was too sore to be sitting here.

“We have limited resources left. Everything was destroyed. Can’t you send emergency supplies?” he pleaded with the woman on the other end of the line.

“This has been a riveting conversation, Dr. Raasch,” the old crone croaked, “But your point has been repeating itself for the last thirty minutes. Your team failed to protect its own supplies. That is your problem. Supplies will come as regularly scheduled, no earlier.”

“Then we’ll need extra supplies on that train,” he pleaded, turning his swivel chair to move his legs away from the desk. He could at least let his legs stretch, if nothing else.

“No,” she croaked, “You’ll receive a regular supply train, with the regular supplies.”

“That’s not good enough!” he barked. He found himself shifting in his seat, half tempted to leap to his feet.

“It is what you’ll be dealing with,” she croaked with that same disinterested monotone voice, “It will arrive in three-”

“Is there anything we can do?” he pleaded, “A stipend for supplies in town? Extra work for the extra supplies?”

“You’re on your own,” the Administrator croaked out a smoker’s cough, “Goodbye, Dr. Raasch.” Without another word, she hung up the phone.

He slowly placed the phone on the receiver. He took a deep breath and rubbed his face. With no emergency supplies, regular work was going to take a downfall. Even if they all chipped in together as a cooperative team, he could not see this working. Knowing his colleagues, he would be in for a painful spell of complaints and bickering. It would be a dry spell for the medigun as well, as much of its materials were destroyed in the infirmary fire.

Perhaps, if he was well off at it, he could convince his coworkers to help him raid the RED base for supplies. They would take just enough to get themselves by, no more. Then again, he could not guarantee that they would not loot everything needlessly. Nor could he guarantee that they would succeed. After their first attempt failed, the RED team would be on alert for their attempts.

Even if he managed to get those supplies, he was without a source of hormones. He needed to get his hands on something that could help him keep this baby alive. He had the glimpse of it instilled into his mind. He could still see the weird misshapen thing on the MRI screen in his mind’s eye.

He grabbed his keys from his pocket as he hurried from the infirmary. If he was not going to get anything done here, he might as well leave. Perhaps he should make a rare appearance at the bar. Or perhaps…

As he opened his car door, he remembered the women living in town. He despaired that he left the alcohol on the RED’s desk. As he turned the key in the ignition though, he decided that it was for the best. He should not be drinking liquor, not in this condition. If his project was going to have the best success, then his body would need the best possible lifestyle.

When he arrived in town, he stopped at the usual store. When he stepped inside, the cool air blasted his face. He did not notice the clerk at first glance, but did a double take. It was not Cherry. Instead, it was a young man who appeared to have zoned out on some reading material on the shelf, not reading it but gazing at its surface with glazed eyes.

He ignored the man, heading off to the drinks aisle. He ignored his thirst as the thought of wheat based ale made his tongue lap at his lips. He turned his attention to soft drinks and juices, grabbing what he thought maybe the others would drink as well. He then turned to the snacks on the other side of the aisle to grab some chips. Of course he skipped over that one brand of chip. He had promised himself that he would never eat them again.

He brought his loot to the counter and waited as the young man suddenly became alive. He scanned each item with an annoying beep, wordlessly going about his work. Medic waited as he counted out the bills. He was thankful that his pay had not worn out due to his recent shopping habits.

“Did you find everything alright today?” the young man suddenly asked, as though he had remembered what he was meant to do.

“Fine, yes fine,” Medic nodded as he handed over the money.

He headed out to the car and turned his wheels to the house. He pulled over at the side of the street and paused there. He took a breath as he thought about what he was doing. He would likely make them more wary of them by showing up unannounced. He hoped that they would receive his gift of drinks and snacks well and forgive this infraction.

He gathered the bags and brought them with him as he headed to the front door of the house. He paused midstep as a sign caught his eye. His head swiveled around to the sign across the street, beckoning drivers to go to the other side of town for their medicinal needs.

He paused for thought. He had not thought about a pharmacy. Though pharmacies required licensed doctors’ signatures to fill out prescriptions. He was not sure a German license was going to do him any good for this. If he wanted to get his hands on what was in a pharmacy, then he would have to go the route he was planning for the RED base.

“Ooh! Grandpa!” a familiar voice squeaked. His head swiveled around to see Lollypop coming out of the house. She was rubbing her eye with one hand, whilst her other eye showed the red and puffy evidence of moisture. “What are you doing here?”

He reached into one of the bags and he offered her a bag of chips. She looked at the chips, then smiled up at him as she accepted the bag. She popped them open and popped a chip into her mouth. She sniffled as a new droplet fell from her eye down her cheek, free and unperturbed.

“Did something happen?” he asked.

He was not sure how to handle this tiny woman’s emotional state. He was not entirely sure how to interpret it either. He had spent most of his time around the men he worked with. He could easily recognize the problem with this, considering their awful behaviors and tendency to blame everybody around them for any infraction. The topic of tears usually brought up taunting and…rainbows for some reason. Medic was baffled that as har as he tried, his only understanding of what to do in this situation came from countless taunts thrown at him and others around him. He had to admit to himself that he had taken to taunting others when they whined and cried as well, especially if they were being a particular nuisance to his work.

Lollypop sat down on the steps leading up to the house and popped more chips into her mouth. Medic sat down beside her, waiting for her to tell him what had happened. He was not sure what he could say or do at this point. He was hard pressed to think of himself in this situation actually helping somebody through whatever this emotion was.

“It’s…nothing…I just had a really rough night,” she finally professed, looking up at him. She raised the bag to offer the chips to him. He accepted by digging his hand into the bag.

The door opened and he turned to see Cherry, “Lolly I-” Cherry’s eyes widened slightly when she spotted him. She blinked, taking a minute to process what she was seeing. “Oh, you’re here. I wasn’t expecting you,” Cherry said with confusion written across her face.

“He brought snacks,” Lollypop turned to show Cherry the bag in her hand.

“Do you want to come inside?” Cherry asked him.

He turned to look at Lollypop. She seemed distressed, after all. If she wanted to go inside, she would have gone inside. If she came outside, perhaps she wanted to be away from the people outside. He was not sure leaving her alone like this was a good idea.

“Sure,” Lollypop got to her feet and headed inside.

Medic followed at her heel. He joined her as she hopped onto the couch, which was positioned in front of a monitor with a coffee table between. He was a little taken aback at the décor. He knew he had been here before, but he had either forgotten or simply overlooked all of the other details of the place.

“Er…Sapphire’s upstairs, but Dolly is…at work…” Cherry explained to him.

“I see,” he replied.

“Dolly’s pretty late getting home,” Lollypop rubbed her face, “Do you think she’s okay?”

“Oh, I’m sure she’s fine,” Cherry dismissed the topic awkwardly.

Medic set the bags on the coffee table and began emptying their contents. Cherry brought plastic cups to the coffee table, giving each of them a container in which to have a drink.

“So, what brought you here?” Cherry asked, “I thought you would be in bed with a hangover…all that alcohol had to knock you out hard.”

“Well, I ended up leaving it with a uh…a friend,” he explained.

“That’s a lot of good alcohol to do that with,” Lollypop teased, “So, what happened there?”

“Well I received some good news,” he explained, “So, you could say I’m celebrating.”

“You? Celebrating? With no beer?” Cherry laughed as she poured herself a glass of orangejuice.

“Yes, well I’ll have taking sobriety,” he explained.

“Oh grandpa! I’m so proud of you!” Lollypop squeezed his arm.

“Oh! You’re giving up alcohol?” Cherry blinked at him with surprise.

“No, no,” he chuckled, “I’m not giving up alcohol entirely. I’m just taking a nine month sobriety.”

“Nine month sobriety?” Lollypop asked.

Cherry laughed, “That’s random. What are you, a pregnant lady?”

“Don’t tease grandpa!” Lollypop scorned her friend.

Medic chuckled awkwardly as he began drinking his juice. He had not realized that they would take that information so close to something like pregnancy. He noted that he should be a bit more cautious when talking about things related to his pregnancy. He was not sure how they might respond. They were under the impression that he was some upstanding citizen, after all.

“Ah, well, that’s life,” he dismissed the topic vaguely.

“So, what’s the good news?” Lolly asked eagerly.

“Huh?” he flinched, realizing that he did not have a cover story or anything for this.

“Yea! What good news has led to a nine months sobriety?” Cherry cut in.

“Well…um…” he tried to think of something that might constitute as good news and worthy of sobriety.

“Hey!” Sapphire’s voice came from upstairs, “Hey Cherry!”

“Yea?” Cherry twisted around to look at the stairs.

“Have you seen my lashes?” Sapphire called down the stairs.

“Huh? No?” Cherry responded, “I thought you kept them in the cupboard?”

“I did! They’re not there!” Sapphire called.

“Did you check around the sink?” Cherry approached the stairs.

Medic took slow careful breaths, relieved that there was a distraction to keep the women from questioning him at the moment. This was the chance for him to think of a cover story. Even so, that required the creativity to actually come up with a suitable cover story.

All the while, Lollypop was seated next to him, sipping juice and munching on chips. Whatever had made her cry was entirely forgotten. She did not seem concerned in the slightest. If he did not know any better, he would have guessed that she was still a child.

“It’s not there,” Sapphire called down the stairs again.

“What about under the sink?” Cherry called.

“I already looked there! They’re not there!” Sapphire called again.

Cherry sighed and stomped up the steps. Medic sighed in relief. He could relax without the attention on himself.

“Alright, now that they’re upstairs and we can chat, what’s that good news?” Lollypop immediately destroyed his relief.

He held his breath. What could he tell her? There were not a lot of ideas at his disposal. The unfortunate reality that he had given away just enough information to reveal his project was not lost on him. The outlandish sound of it was also not lost on him.

“Grandpa?” Lolly nudged his arm.

“Um…” he swallowed as he searched for some idea.

“It’s okay,” Lolly patted his arm.

“Well…um…” he chewed on the inside of his lip.

Lolly put some more chips in her mouth. She paused as she grabbed more chips. She raised her hand, offering the chips to him. He hesitated before accepting them, putting them in his mouth.

“It’s okay to say that you don’t want to say,” Lolly offered.

He looked away, unsure of what he could say about it. If he didn’t give her an explanation that would just leave mystery and curiosity. He was still not sure that he had anything he could say about it though.

“Honestly, I’m not sure I can say now,” he managed to say hesitantly.

Lolly nodded silently. She said nothing as she reached for a little rectangular device that sat on the table. She pressed a button on it and suddenly the screen of the television lit up. It had been a long time since he had seen a television for recreational purposes.

“It’s okay to have your own secrets,” Lolly leaned against his arm, “We all have things we don’t like to talk about. Sometimes we want to celebrate stuff, but it’s linked to stuff we can’t talk about. And that’s okay.”

He looked down at the small woman nuzzling against his arm. He reached around with his other hand to rub the top of her head. She pressed against his hand, nuzzling against the affectionate touch.

All the while, the television began to blare some drama. People were yelling. A woman started dramatically screaming through tears. He was barely paying attention to it all, as it was just screaming and wailing.

He had tuned it out so much that he did not realize when shouting started upstairs. He looked to the steps in curiosity. Cherry had only gone upstairs to help Sapphire with something superficial. So why were they fighting?

“Don’t mind them,” Lolly gave him a gentle pat against his abdomen, “They fight sometimes. Sapphire gets cranky and fights with everybody.”

“She does have a knack for sass,” he chuckled at that thought.

“Yea, well Sapphire tends to have two modes. Spunky sass or kick your ass,” Lolly was not chuckling along with him, which worried him that this may be said with more malicious truth than as a jest, “It’s a wonder she can get clients.”

“Clients?” the word slipped from his mouth.

“Ah yea…you know…business,” Lolly chuckled this time.

Medic pondered the image of Sapphire in some professional business attire. She would look good in a blazer and slacks or a knee length skirt. But every time he conjured an image, it morphed with the amount of colors she painted on her face and the high boots with high heels she wore. Sapphire’s usual image did not allow him to see her as a businesswoman, which she seemed to be.

“Eh heh,” Lolly chuckled again, “Yea, don’t mind them.”

Medic was not sure how long he was there, but it was already sundown when he got in his car. He took a breath, taking a moment to try and wake his aching body from the hours he spent just seated at the couch pretending to be invested in television drama. It had been a nice opportunity to zone out.

How surprising to have felt so at ease. He normally found himself so anxious around people. Maybe Lolly’s easy going personality and having talked to her the past few times put him at ease. She was easily a very obnoxious young woman, yet she was easy to get along with in a quiet setting. She was so quiet, though he thought that was because of the television distraction.

He started up his car as he thanked his lucky stars that he was so used to being around bickering. Cherry and Sapphire must have been shouting at each other from upstairs for over an hour. If he did not know any better, he would have thought Lolly turned on the television to drown them out.

He looked up over the steering wheel at the door, “Oh.”

He put the car in reverse, turning and placing his elbow up over the seat so he could look out the back of his car. He had not considered that things were generally hostile in the house. They always seemed to be so pleasant. They seemed to get along so well when he was around. Though, perhaps that was because he was around. He turned onto the street and pulled away from the house. There were few cars out on the streets, and they were easy to spot with their lights on so he felt safe with how much he was zoning out.

His eyes came across a sign and he suddenly became more aware of his surroundings. He pulled the car to a stop and adjusted his glasses to read the sign. The bold lettering described the services available at a local pharmacy, encouraging visitors to spend their money on various drugs. He noted their hours and realized that it would be impossible to get in there during their operating hours. They were only open while he was on duty at work.

He growled, thumping the palm of his hand against the steering wheel. Even if he could get in there during working hours, he would be hard pressed to convince them to give him the medication he needed. They would refuse a man demanding a month’s worth of hard pain killers, steroidal breathing treatments and especially the hormones he needed for the pregnancy.

He flinched, touching a hand to his stomach. He had been thinking about this project for a while, but somehow his mind had disconnected the facts. He _was_ the project. Inside of him was something alien to his body. If he did not make certain his body was able to function appropriately with the parts, then he would lose what was there.

He did not have time to wait for another day when he could stomp in and try to convince them that he as a German doctor should have just as much sway as any other doctor in America. He would just have to get what he needed another way. Now that he knew where to look, he just needed to formulate a plan.

He pulled away from the sign, keeping the pharmacy’s location in mind. He decided to drive by it once, just to scope the area. It would be fairly well lit on either side by a grocery store and a lawyer’s office on either side. What a predicament he would be in if he got caught. But if he managed to do so well at what he was planning, then he would have his own rewards.


	21. A List of Medical Supplies

When Medic passed the infirmary, he had not expected to see anyone in the waiting area. His feet faltered and he turned to see who was there. The Scout was slumped dozing in a hair. Across from him, the Engineer was leaning forward with ice wrapped in cloth pressed to his head. Near them, with a couple chairs’ distance was the soldier. He was clutching a makeshift bandage over his wrist, while the remains of his hand laid on his knee.

He blinked at them, trying to reason out what might have happened. The Engineer raised his head and met his gaze. His eyes looked sunken and tired, which stuck out most because his goggles hung around his neck instead of hiding them. He lowered the ice pack from his head.

“Doc,” the Enginer spoke as if he was pleading.

“What?” Medic looked at Scout, who looked unharmed. Sodlier’s condition looked the worst.

“Need a bit of patching up,” the Engineer pointed to his own head.

Medic looked at Soldier’s severed hand with a frown, “There is not much I can do.” He looked at the Enginer, who was frowning up at him. “The fire destroyed most of our supplies. And the Administrator refused to replace any of it,” he explained.

“What did you say to her?” the Engineer demanded.

Medic rolled his eyes, “I informed her of what happened and what we need. She has made it clear that we are not receiving any emergency or replacement supplies. We are to wait for the usual supplies on the usual train. We are on our own.”

“You call that getting supplies? What have you being doing in town all this time?” the Engineer demanded. He was clearly frustrated, and from the colors forming on top of his shaven head, Medic could not blame him.

“I don’t know what you expect _me_ to do about it,” Medic replied with a shake of his head.

“I don’t know!” the Engineer exclaimed, “Buy some supplies? Get it from other resources?” His voice sounded almost frantic in his pleading.

“Medic narrowed his eyes, “How about _you_ buy the supplies? Hmm?”

The Engineer balked at the suggestion, “What the hell am I supposed to do?! You’re the Medic here!”

“You buy the supplies, I’ll fix you up,” Medic suggested.

The Engineer growled as he rose to his feet. He swayed slightly, “This ain’t- It ain’t my responsibility to be keeping that infirmary stocked, doc!”

“And I cannot afford to buy a month’s worth of supplies for nine mercenaries,” the Medic responded.

The Engineer swayed uneasily, which made the Medic wary. He watched how the man rubbed his eyebrow. His eyes looked tired before they snapped shut against a pang of pain. He did not seem aware that his body swayed in the other direction. So, before he could fall and hurt himself further, Medic grabbed his arm. The shorter man flinched and looked up at him with surprise.

“Doc,” the Soldier got his attention.

“Yes, Soldier?” he turned his attention to the other American.

“Enginer removed my hand,” the Soldier informed him.

“Yes, I see that,” the Medic nodded, eyeing the bloody hand.

“I did not! You boys were playing with them tools. And then _you_ cut it off!” the Engineer barked.

Medic looked at the Scout, who was still asleep in the chair. Apparently, none of this commotion disturbed his slumber. There did not seem to be anything wrong with him though.

He turned back to the Enginer, “What happened?”

The Engineer sighed and pointed at the either of the other two mercenaries, “These fellas had the bright idea to play with a sawzall. Guess where this idiot put his hand?”

They both looked to the Solodier who was silently staring at them. “I will set my hand wherever and whenever!” the Soldier barked.

“Right,” Medic sighed again, “And what about the Scout?”

“He freaked out and knocked some shelving full of equipment onto us,” the Engineer explained pointing to his head, “I came out feeling dizzy. He didn’t even get up.”

“He screamed like a girl,” the Soldier added.

The Medic sighed once again as he strolled over to check the Scout’s vitals. He had a weak heartbeat, but it was still present. Giving him a pinch did not result in any form of response. It seemed that the Scout was in too deep for any treatment.

“He has not respawned yet,” the Soldier informed him.

“Yes, he’s not dead,” the Medic responded.

“Well, ain’t that something?” the Engineer asked.

The Medic looked at the Texan, who looked like he was about to teeter to the floor. All fo that black and blue looked awful. It was evident that he was in just as bad of shape as the others. He could do nothing for any of that though.

Medic took a dep breath and let it out slowly, “There is only one treatment left, I think.”

“What’s that?” the Soldier asked.

Medic sighed again and gave a look to the Engineer that he hoped the man understood. He opened the doors and held them for the two injured men. The Soldier marched in with his severed hand in his one hand. The Engineer followed behind him slowly. The Soldier hopped up onto the examination table and swung his legs freely. The Engineer remained standing, though he looked uneasy.

“Alright, let’s see,” he went to his desk.

He searched the drawers, amazed at himself for forgetting where he kept it. He came back with a small pistol, checking the chamber to be sure that it was loaded. The last thing he needed was for Soldier’s temper to get out of hand before he could finish the job.

He moved around behind the Soldier so he would not notice. The Engineer noticed though. The pistol was clear to see and apparent as daylight. Even in his uneasy state, he knew what was about to happen. Not wanting to look like he was hiding it, he let the Engineer see it clearly, making something of a show that he was about to use it.

He put the barrel to the back of the Soldier’s head and pulled the trigger before anything could be said. He took a breath and let it out slowly as the Soldier’s body sagged forward and onto the ground. He looked at the Engineer, who was looking at the pistol in Medic’s hand. His gray-blue eyes rose slowly to meet Medic’s gaze.

“Doc,” his tone and eyes pleaded against death.

“Your condition is serious,” Medic insisted, “Respawn can remedy these injuries. I currently cannot.” He took another deep breath and let it out slowly as he checked to make sure the next chamber was loaded. “Please, let’s not make this harder than it has to be.”

“What…what about…” the Engineer blinked slowly, clearly struggling to think critically, “What abou thte medigun?”

“What is left _has_ to be spared for the battlefield,” Medic insisted.

Engineer sighed and rested a hand against the examination table, using it for support, “Do it, doc.”

Medic nodded to himself as he placed the muzzle to Engineer’s head. He pulled the trigger, watching as the man’s entire body flinched at the impact and then dropped to the floor. After successfully ending the first two, he set the pistol aside and headed to the waiting area.

Scout was still fully unconscious, laying in a chair. Medic tried to decide how best to handle this. It was still a teammate after all. He should be careful with him. On the other hand, he needed to kill him. And the young man was unconscious, so death or no death it would not matter.

He settled on a compromise. Instead of grabbing his ankles, he pulled him up by his armpits. The spry runner’s body was not all that heavy, but it was still a struggle to move him. It was initially difficult to get him up and away from the chair. His legs just would not cooperate, refusing to stiffen, yet refusing to move out of the way. When he finally had the body away from the chair, he brought him inside, with legs dragging along the floor. He set the Scout on the floor face down so he could grab his gun. He double checked the chamber to make sure the next one was loaded. Without a moment more wasted, he pointed it at Scout and fired it through his head.

He sighed and trounced over to his desk to flop into his chair. He breathed slowly and cautiously. He counted down from ten to calm himself down. He could feel his heart pounding, thumping against his ears and flooding his head with blood.

He did not notice that the bodies had disappeared to respawn until the door suddenly opened. He looked up after a glance to where the bodies had been. The Engineer came in, moving slowly as he looked around the infirmary. He was looking around as if this was his first time seeing the place.

“Are you alright?” Medic grew concerned that there might still be something left over of the concussion.

“I’m fine,” Engineer signed and walked over to the desk, “You got a minute?”

“Ehm…” Medic glanced around the room. When he found nothing to excuse himself from the conversation, he folded his hands on the desk and cleared his throat. “What can I do for you?”

The Engineer grabbed the old stool and brought it over to the opposite side of the desk. He settled into the seat and leaned an elbow on the desk to relax. His fingers tapped on the desk for a moment before his eyes finally met Medic’s gaze.

“We need to figure something out about this infirmary,” it was the first time in a long time that Medic though Engineer’s voice had been soft when speaking to him.

“What do you suggest?” Medic opened his hands, as if Engineer might put an idea into them.

“Well, I was hoping you’d already thought on that,” the Engineer shook his head in disappointment.

“I did consider…two…possible options,” Medic put his hands back together to twiddle his thumbs. He did not want to draw any attention to any connections he had made with the RED Medic.

“Go on,” the Engineer pressed with intrigue.

“Well, one option is to raid the RED base,” he explained, “Their infirmary would be fully stocked and have enough supplies for nine mercenaries.

The Engineer sucked air through his teeth, “That’s a bit of a risk. We’re already working against them every day. Just beating them at this is difficult. You think our team could pull off a heist? We’d need everyone to pull that off.”

Medic sighed, “It is a hard bargain. It would also be a bit unreasonable. I don’t think we could carry out the supplies, seeing as we would have to be fighting the entire time.”

“Not to mention our respawn is across the battlefield,” the Engineer nodded in agreement, “And theirs is right there in the building.”

“Maybe – and this is the other option – we don’t raid the RED base,” he suggested.

“Okay, then where do we get the supplies?” the Engineer furrowed his brow.

“There’s a pharmacy in town,” Medic explained, “It’s fairly well-lit at night, but otherwise unguarded. It closes early though, so there is a window of opportunity…”

The engineer steepled his fingers and leaned over the desk, “I’m listening.”

“If we can get even half of our team to work with us, I think we can get the majority of our supplies from this pharmacy,” Medic explained.

“Pharmaceutical business is bit,” the Engineer rolled his tongue around in his mouth, “That many supplies aren’t going to go missing without notice. That’ll be a big budget we’re stealing.”

“Indeed,” the Medic nodded, “I have also considered that they may have cameras. That may be incriminating if they catch even one of us.”

“The town turning against us would be a real big problem,” the Engineer rubbed his chin.

“Not to mention how easy it would be for one of our comrades to stumble and make a blatant mistake in the process,” the Medic sighed, “We are surrounded by idiots.”

“I’m concerned, doc,” the Engineer chewed on his lip, “What do we do?”

“I think it’s our only option at this point,” Medic shrugged, “We cannot get our hands on those supplies easily.”

“Say…what if we pooled money together to buy the supplies?” the Engineer asked.

“You’re still concerned with the theft?” Medic asked.

“It’s easier an’ the town wouldn’t have any reason to turn against us,” the Engineer explained.

“I understand your concern,” Medic nodded, “I think it would work for basic bandages, cold medicines, antiseptics and such…but we _do_ need some more serious drugs that simply aren’t available without a doctor’s prescription.”

“A script huh?” Engineer furrowed his brow as he continued rubbing his chin, “Can’t you make one of those?” He gestured to Medic.

“I can’t,” he shook his head, “My hands are tied.”

“The hell does that mean?” the Engineer demanded.

“It means I can’t,” he shook his head.

“Alright…then how’s about we split it fifty fifty?” the Engineer suggested.

Medic raised an eyebrow and said nothing. He was not sure what to say to that.

“First we pool money, see what we can get, then steal the rest,” the Engineer suggested.

“If you can get the others on board with this plan…then it’s fine by me,” Medic nodded with a shrug. It actually looked like they would have a doable and safe plan.

“Alrighty then,” the Engineer rose from his stool and rubbed his nose with his thumb, “You get a list going on what we’ll need and how much. I’ll go see about getting the others pooled together.”

Medic nodded in agreement, “I shall get started right now.”

As the Engineer headed for the door, Medic reached for a pen. He pulled out a piece of paper and as he pressed the ink to the page, he realized one critical part of this whole operation. His teammates were selfish morons.

Medic pulled up to the pharmacy and parked his car. A quick glance around showed that this place was not very busy, aside from a few grocery shoppers next door. He only had twenty-five minutes until the place closed, so he needed to get the information he needed and get going.

With a pen and notepad in his possession, he headed into the pharmacy. Like most other places, this building blasted him with cold air as soon as he stepped inside. It was a severe juxtaposition to the heat outdoors and reminded him that they had very little in the way of cooling systems at the base. The most he had for himself was an electric fan. He used to have two, but the infirmary fan was destroyed by the fire.

“Welcome,” a man in a white coat behind a counter called to him, “Let me know if you need any help finding anything.”

“I’ll do that,” he assured the man as he moved quickly to the rows of medicine.

So many things existed here that he knew he had to be particular in his search. Thankfully he already had his list and knew what he needed to jot down in his notepad. He moved around the cough drops and cold medications. Those could be purchased at a later date if needed.

He found bandages and antiseptic and started jotting down prices. He picked up the packages to check and see how much was in them. The antiseptic looked like it might last if they bought one bottle, but the bandages would rack up a bigger bill. He jotted down prices and how much they would need before moving on to the next thing.

He filled his notepad with item names and prices. He put numbers of how many they would need to buy and calculated them out. It started out as sufficiently low, but over time calculating out all of these numbers began to grow a larger and larger amount than he would be able to buy alone.

He just had a couple more items to add to the list. He was struggling to find them on the shelves though. He was certain he saw the medicines at the other store where Cherry worked though. It should be around here somewhere. If he did not find it, well then he should go to the other store and see what they had and for what prices.

When he was sure he was not going to find anything else, he grabbed the bottle of antiseptic and took it to the counter to buy. He might as well leave with one item and remove suspicion from himself. Though, the clerk did not look entirely satisfied.

“Did you find everything alright?” he inquired.

“All but one item,” he informed the man before giving him the name of it.

“Oh, we keep that behind the counter,” the man explained, pointing towards a glass cabinet that Medic had not noticed before. It had some medicine on display in small packages.

“Really? How much comes in a packet?” he inquired.

“Pardon?” the man furrowed his brow.

“How many pills in a package?” Medic pressed.

“Three?” Medic was surprised at the answer. That was nowhere near as much as he would need just for one day. They would need at least two per mercenary for one day.

“We have to sell them in small portions,” the pharmacist explained.

“But…why?” Medic inquired.

“Company policy,” the man shrugged as he handed Medic his change.

“That is ridiculous!” Medic shook his head as he took the bag given to him.

“Have a nice day!” the man waved farewell.

“Dummkopf,” he muttered as he made his way out to his car.

He pulled away from the pharmacy and circled around to the store he attended more often. He pulled into the parking lot and picked up his notepad. He found everything at the pharmacy, but he decided to try and find those things here. If he could find better prices then it would work out better.

He took a note in the notebook so he would know which information was for this store. Once he was finished, he stepped out and headed to the front door. The heat was blasted away by the cool air as the automatic doors slid open. He stepped inside and glanced around. The colorful aisles invited him to his favorite areas to peruse, with foods and drinks to buy. He turned his mind away from drinks and headed towards the back of the store.

He came to the aisle and began browsing. It became immediately evident that this store did not hold as many of the items he needed. Some of them did not look like they were up to standards either. The packaging certainly was not what he needed, with smaller packaging that meant he would have to buy more packs just to get the amount they needed. That would add up to a higher cost.

Finally, his eyes caught sight of what he needed. He snatched the packet off the shelf and turned it over. It had a whopping twenty four pills in it. That was far better than the three the pharmacy had touted. He smacked the package with a grin, glad to have found it.

“Grandpa?” a voice startled him from behind. He spun around to see Cherry studying him, all dressed in her work uniform. “What are you looking for?”

“I found it,” he assured her, as he set the package back in its spot. He grabbed his pen and scribbled down the price of the medicine.

“What are you writing? Is that…is that a grocery list?” Cherry tried to peer at his notepad writing, “Holy crap your writing is terrible! Like a doctor’s handwriting.”

He huffed, “I _am_ a doctor!”

Cherry laughed, “Well, did you find what you were looking for?”

“Yes,” he closed his notepad, “Unfortunately I’m not buying today. I just needed information for a budget.”

“Ooh! Smart! Me and the girls do that every month,” Cherry nodded.

“Yes, a wise way to handle things,” Medic agreed, “I’ll be off now.” He turned and headed out the front door.

“See you later, grandpa!” Cherry called after him.

He waved a bit but did not allow himself to get deterred. For once he was getting out of there when _he_ wanted to leave. Neither Cherry, nor any of the women she lived with were going to stop him from getting back to base.

It felt like something of a triumph. He was driving back to base after only spending a little time inside the shop and the pharmacy. He had his notepad full of information that they would need. They could fix their budget and decide on how much each person needed to pitch in to make this work.


	22. Big Fussing Pool

The base was fairly quiet. It was almost unsettling. When Medic came upon the gathering of mercenaries, he found out where all the noise went. Shouting and arguing flared up amidst the whole lot. It almost seemed like they had been scorned with some heavy news.

Curious as to what news he had not been made aware of, Medic stepped to the side. He would keep himself out of the limelight and view it from a fly’s perspective. He flinched at meeting the Engineer’s gaze. The man had his goggles down around his neck, so his eyes, ringed with marks from prolonged use of his usual eyewear, were clearly visible.

As the arguing died down, Sniper became the last person speaking, “…it wouldn’t have happened if we were sitting on RED with a mean winning streak. We would be rewarded for all the time we’ve spent winning. What investment are our employers going to put into a damn losing team like this?”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I agree,” the Spy’s eyes darted around as he agreed with the Australian.

“None of that’s gonna help us none,” the Engineer spoke up through the momentary din of quiet.

“It’s a problem we gotta solve, but we can’t seem to solve it. We’re just…constantly dragging behind. I’m constantly having to pick you guys up. But I can’t do it on my own!” the Scout spoke up.

“Little team is bad at fighting,” the Heavy grunted irritably.

“You’ve pointed out a problem,” the Engineer finally rose from his seat, “I think we all get why the Administrator won’t invest in us again.”

“That ain’t even the half of it!” the Scout spoke up again, arms flailing with wild gestures, “If we could even _break_ their winning streak, this wouldn’t be an issue. It shouldn’t be an issue!”

“The fire started from electrical work,” the Spy pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it up. He took a drag and let the smoke billow from his lips like a dragon’s maw. “It is rather suspicious that one of the few men with a grudge to hold against the Medic might have something to do with what started the fire in the infirmary.”

“Wait- What? Engineer has a grudge on Medic? Am I missing something here?” the Scout‘s head swiveled back and forth between the Spy and the Engineer.

The Heavy gave a big loud sigh, “Is over. Nobody caused fire.”

“I ain’t touched any of that electrical work!” the Engineer was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. He stabbed a finger into the Spy’s chest. “And if I were you I wouldn’t go around throwing out accusations so willy nilly! We all know you’ve got access to more about this base’s ins and outs than anybody else. If anything, you should be the one convincing the Administrator to send us the emergency supplies!”

“Yea!” the Soldier roared.

“Uh…why’s that?” the Scout cut in.

“He’s our supposed espionage expert,” the Engineer gestured at the suited mercenary with a flail of his arm, “Why don’t you ask him where his expertise lies? Is it just in backstabbing? Is your weakness old ladies? You can’t fathom how to handle that mess?”

“I am not the one who takes inventory and handles the goings on of the infirmary,” the Spy protested brushing the Engineer’s hand away.

“And have you _tried_ giving her a call?” the Engineer demanded.

“Is no use,” the Demoman spoke up, “That woman makes up her mind and won’t change it.”

“Not unless you give her something she wants,” the Sniper snorted.

“Give her something she wants? What does she want that Spy can give her?” the Demoman gave the Sniper a perplexed look.

Sniper rolled his shoulders, “Dunno mate. S’just that Engineer thinks Spy can think of something that’ll entice her.”

“Like guns!” the Soldier barked.

“No, not guns,” the Scout shook his head, “She’s a lady. Ladies like…like flowers and stuff.”

“A bouquet is not going to set problem straight,” the Heavy grunted.

“Right,” the burning rage that had ignited in the Engineer before was dying down, “Well, we gotta face it. We are short on supplies and we have an entire month to deal with not having supplies.”

“Pff!” the Scout shrugged, “So what? Big deal? We can go for a month without the infirmary!”

“You think so?” the Engineer turned his head to look at the Scout.

“Sure! We’ve handled not having the doc around to help, so why would we bother with…uh…supply stuff?” the Scout explained.

“Even I cannot fathom going a month without materials on hand,” the Spy spoke coolly.

“But the supplies aren’t coming until a month’s time, so we gotta get them ourselves,” the Engineer was clearly trying to steer their attentions.

“Well, why doesn’t doc buy them?” the Scout suggested.

“Yea! This is the Medic’s work! So the Medic should be the one to do it!” the Soldier barked.

“How do you figure that?” the Spy inquired.

“If I were out of ammunition today, I would expect none other to replenish my supply!” the Soldier barked.

“That would likely be due to tomfoolery,” the Engineer argued, “This was all due to a fire in the infirmary. We _need_ the infirmary. All of us.”

“Since when do we all need the infirmary?” the Sniper asked, with a cold tone on his tongue.

“Since when did you start spreading that goddamn rash?” the Engineer bit back at him. Sniper fell silent at these words.

The Heavy groaned, “Without infirmary, doctor cannot do work. Without doctor doing work outside of field, team gets itch.”

“You guys are still dealing with that? I’m like cured,” the Scout said, with a proud smile.

Medic rolled his eyes. He doubted any of them were clear of that rash. Considering what he had learned from the RED Medic, he was sure that none of them would be clear of the itchiness until they had had a round of antibiotics. Of course he had taken this into account when he was at the pharmacy, but it would be something they had to steal from behind the counter.

“The Medic was not curing us of the rash in the first place!” the Soldier barked, “He should be court-martialed for his insubordinate behavior!”

“I don’t think he’s been avoiding helping us get rid of that,” the Sniper admitted sheepishly, “I don’t think he’d be so frustrated about it, if he didn’t care about its spread.”

“Well there’s no more rash cream in the infirmary,” the Scout shrugged, “So we’re kinda…well…out of luck there.”

“And we’re not getting more supplies from the Administrator,” the Engineer nodded, “So! This is what we need to do.”

“If you’re going to say pool our money in together again, then you’re going to get a hard pass,” the Spy intervened.

“Yea, no thanks,” the Scout nodded, “I got shit to save up for. I’m not giving away my money.”

“Nobody’s asking any of you to give away your money,” the Engineer protested.

“Is for important things,” the Heavy nodded, “We all buy supplies together. We get cream and bandages. We need these things.”

“Right,” the Engineer nodded to the Heavy, “And if we don’t do anything, we don’t get anything.”

“But then, why isn’t the _Medic_ buying the supplies?” the Scout protested, “Why do _we_ have to?”

“One man’s salary isn’t going to handle a month’s worth of supplies,” the Engineer argued.

“Bull,” the Scout folded his arms over his chest.

“Well, let’s say we took all of Scout’s salary,” the Engineer suggested. He turned, captivating the rest of the mercenaries as an audience.

“Hey, no wait!” the Scout protested.

“We put all of his salary into this pool and we went to get the supplies. Now, you gotta get enough that it lasts you the whole month, so that’s a lot of supplies. Now, multiply that by nine. There’s nine of us mercenaries on BLU. We aren’t the most careful bunch when it comes to injuries and illness either. So you tell me, do you think Scout’s salary can cover all of that?”

When the Engineer looked to Scout, the young man looked flabberghasted. “Um…maybe? Yes? No? I don’t know! I don’t know anything about medical supplies! Gah!” the Scout stammered out, “Why are you try’na take _my_ money?”

“It’s a hypothetical,” the Engineer patted Scout’s shoulder, “But if we chipped in…all of us, we could easily get what we need.”

“Or…and hear me out on this, Mr. Murderer-Who-Can’t-Thief, why don’t we steal it?” the Spy inquired. The others considered what the Spy was saying, nodding their heads with quiet agreement.

“Because,” the Engineer’s eyes narrowed as his rage was slowly growing hotter. It was not a quick temper this time, but it was easy to see that he was getting unnervingly peeved. “If we steal that much supplies from a company, there are definitely going to be police reports. It’ll be big. And it’ll be something we cannot sneeze at. We’ll have more legal trouble hounding us than we need. And you of all people, second only to Soldier, should know better than to provoke lawyers!”

The way the Spy stiffened was telling. His eyes darted around, glancing at every other man in the room.  
The unspoken question about just what trouble the Spy had gotten into in the past suddenly gnawed at Medic. He had never considered that the Spy might have had trouble with somebody of a legal status before.

“So,” the Engineer surveyed his audience with tired looking eyes, “Are you willing to pitch in for the supplies we need?”

There was a long pause. It was a silent pause with the Texan standing awkwardly alone in the limelight. It seemed like nobody would answer him at all.

“You wusses can’t handle not having your precious supplies? What a bunch of girls!” the Soldier laughed.

There was mutterings all around. None of them totally agreed with the Soldier, but they all seemed to be some semblance of agreement that they would not cooperate. None of them were willing to pitch in their _hard earned_ money for this team effort.

It was only a little disheartening. It was not under or overwhelming. Medic could have predicted this himself. They were very predictable people. They did not sway easily towards the good of the group. They tended to stick more to their own wants.

He stepped towards the Engineer, who was giving him a tired look. He thought this must have been the first time in years that he thought the look they shared was one of coworkers who understood one another. The Engineer was fighting a tiring battle that Medic had already given up on.

“Well, then I hope you are all prepared for a long and arduous month,” Medic finally spoke up, “Because without supplies, you’re all going to be bleeding to death and suffering with rashes longer than that.”

“Once supplies come, we’ll be fine!” the Scout protested.

“No,” the Medic shook his head, “When you leave an illness to fester as it does, it only gets worse. Best case scenario is getting you all on antibiotics _today_. The best I can do at this rate is to wait for the train and hope the antibiotics works by then.”

“Why wouldn’t it work?” the Scout argued.

“It’s bacterial,” the Medic explained, “And it’s an infection. With every wound you get, you are obtaining more infections. Infections that do not go away without supplies. These infections will worsen. They’ll harm your bodies. You’ll grow weaker. You’ll be less capable. Soon, you’ll not be able to manage the fighting chances that you have at this time.”

“We have fighting chances?” the Demoman said quietly.

“Stealing a month’s worth of supplies will get heavy attention on us,” the Medic went on, “We are easy targets for accusation. Make no mistake about that. And if we are unwilling to cooperate on this at all then…well…be prepared for a long month of losing.”

He looked upon the faces of his team. They were surprisingly silent. A few of them blanched at the suggestion. All of them were quiet though. There was nothing to say, so Medic decided not to linger. He turned and hurried off. He would have to think of a better plan if he was to do anything with any of his work.

“Doc!” the Engineer’s voice caught him by surprise. He halted and turned to see the Engineer and the Pyro approaching him. “You got a minute?” the Engineer inquired.

Medic looked between the speaker and the Pyro. He peeled his gaze from the masked mercenary to meet the Engineer’s tired gaze, “What is it?”

“You got an inventory of what we need? I don’t suppose you have a complete list of prices with how much we’ll have to spend on supplies, do you?” the Engineer asked.

“It just so happens that I just came back from doing this research at the pharmacy,” he pulled out his notebook and turned it to the necessary page, “I also did some research at another store. They have some things for cheaper.”

“Oh,” the Engineer’s eyebrows rose with surprise as he took the notebook. He squinted at the handwriting, “I can’t read this.”

“Here,” Medic took the notebook to look over the notes, “Here’s the total we need to get everything. The rest is just names of medicines and supplies we’ll need.”

Engineer let out a whistle, “Least I hit it in the ball park. Fellas aren’t gonna be too happy that this is the total.”

Pyro peered over the Engineer’s shoulder curiously. He made some muffled sounds, but it was too difficult to figure out.

“I’ve already figured out where all of these are in the pharmacy and that other store,” the Medic assured them.

“I don’t doubt that,” the Engineer continued looking over the page, as if he could decipher the handwriting he had declared unreadable, “I don’t see anything about rash cream or anything.”

“We won’t need rash cream,” Medic assured him, “Only the absolute necessary.”

“And the break out?” the Engineer raised his head. His eyes blinked, pupils constricting as the light above their heads pierced them. “The uh…the rash?”

“I’ll need a medication we cannot buy. That’ll be on a list of things we’ll have to steal,” the Medic explained.

The Engineer sighed, “That rash cream was really doing a service in taking the edge off though.”

“I’m sorry,” Medic offered his condolences, “But we are only buying the essentials for the pooled amount. Though, if you want to buy some for yourself, then I know of a brand name at the store that would work.”

“That ain’t the point, doc,” the Engineer sighed and rubbed his eyes with his fingertips. The Pyro patted the man’s shoulder.

“Well, it’s a bacterial infection,” Medic explained, “Just a round of antibiotics and you’ll be right as…” He paused as the idiom escaped him. He had heard it so many times that up until this point, he memorized it by heart. So why was it that he could not remember the last word? Or was it two words?

“Right as rain, yea I know,” the Engineer nodded glumly, “If you don’t mind, I’d like to show these notes to the others and get them cooperating.” He waved the notebook in the air.

“Alright, good luck with that,” Medic responded. He was sure the Engineer would need all the luck in the world in dealing with the others.

“You’re not coming?” the Engineer suddenly seemed surprised.

“No,” the Medic shook his head, “I tolerate less and less of this team all the time.” He turned and headed back to his room.


	23. Shopping Trip of Hell

The respawn room had a hum of chatter. The morning had only just begun and everybody seemed more sociable than they normally would at the peak of a day. Medic ignored it as he headed to his locker. He would be stuck dealing with only one medigun and he would have to make it last for the month. Many medical supplies could be bought at a pharmacy, but what he needed for a medigun could not be easily found at the store.

“Everybody ready?” the Heavy Weapons Guy asked loudly.

“Just a moment, will ya?” the Engineer’s voice cut through. Medic turned as the man approached him. His eyes were covered with his work goggles, but it was clear that he was looking directly at Medic. “Everyone agreed to pool money for this list, doc,” the Engineer handed him the notebook from yesterday.

Medic glanced around the room and found eyes on him and Engineer. Despite this lingering wariness, there was something disarming about their expressions. They did not have the usual dark glares that he was used to. Their expressions were softer somehow.

“I suggest we go together to get all of the supplies bought up,” the Engineer went on, “I figure the truck would be a good pick. Scout said he’d come along.”

“Alright,” Medic glanced around the room, but he did not spot the Scout.

“Were there supplies that aren’t on this list?” the Engineer gave him a wary look.

“There are a few,” Medic nodded to him, “But those are medicines we cannot buy. We’ll have to steal them from the pharmacy.”

“What are we stealing from a pharmacy?” the Scout entered the room as he pulled a shirt over his head.

“Did you forget how to dress yourself?” the Sniper teased the Scout.

“Shut up, guy,” Scout spat back at him, “Having a rough morning. Don’t have any room to deal with a screwball.” He immediately shifted his attention to the Engineer and the Medic. “So after work, we’re going to the pharmacy, am I right?”

“You, me and doc are heading out in a truck after work,” the Engineer gestured between the three of them.

Medic remained silent, watching as the others did. He was not sure he could input anything to this interaction that would make it go any smoother than it was. It was happening better than it normally would.

“What say we give those REDs something to cry about first?” the Engineer grinned.

There was a cheer that went through the respawn room. Medic glanced around at his teammates as they dispersed. This was the most united they had been since they arrived at this base so many years ago. He could not imagine what had gotten into them to drive them to actually cooperate. To add to it all, they were cheery rather than stoic.

The work day went by smoothly. It was the first time in Medic’s recent memory that the BLU team won together. They had finally won. At last, they could finally have some form of peace with their team.

Maybe things would not be so bad from now on. They could work together and not fight anymore. They would make sure that they all got their share of rest and care at the same time. And if the team could manage to do that, then the Medic could pull through as well.

“Well, shall we get going?” he heard the Engineer behind him.

He turned to see the Scout approaching the Engineer. “Let’s get going! I say we grab beers afterwards. Let’s celebrate!”

“We have to focus, Scout,” the Engineer said firmly, “We’ve got medicine to purchase and medicine to steal.”

“Ja,” Medic nodded in agreement, “And stealing them in broad daylight would be risky and foolish. Let’s not make a mistake.”

“I don’t know what you guys are so scared of,” Scout put his hands on his sides, “We practically run this town!”

“Hardly,” the Spy stepped into the conversation to protest, “And dragging attention to us is not something we can afford. We won today, but it is barely legitimate to erase our past failures. We are still in a back sliding trend. We need to be careful about the kind of attention we bring to ourselves, or risk the Administrator’s wrath.”

“That woman can eat a-” Scout paused midsentence, mouth hanging open. He glanced between the Spy and the Engineer before clicking his jaw shut. “She can eat a donut,” Scout said quieter.

“Eat a donut?” the Engineer chortled.

“Suck a lemon,” the Scout shrugged.

“Is that what you’re sticking with?” the Spy inquired.

“_Anyways_,” Medic tried to draw their attentions away from this topic, “We have a lot to obtain. Most of it will be bought. Then after hours we’ll steal the rest. It will not be much, but I think with the cameras, we should be cautious.”

“Are you going to employ my skills,” the Spy lifted his chin and toyed with his jacket.

“Are you volunteering?” Medic asked.

The Spy frowned, “Employ infers employment.”

“Then you’re not coming, are you?” Medic put a bit of a snide tone into his words.

When they arrived at the pharmacy, everything seemed fine. With Scout and Engineer tagging along, Medic headed inside. Scout was too talkative, but Medic could at least ignore it. He just needed to make sure they grabbed the right materials so they could manage the whole budget. The last thing he wanted was a group of mercenaries yelling at him about something that was caused by the Engineer or the Scout. He did not want any of them to be able to check the list and see that any of it was off. They might infer some lies about that as well.

“So we need some of these,” the Scout was filling a basket with items that Medic would have to sift through and count. Scout did not even register how many they needed of each item.

The Engineer picked up and item and stopped to read the packaging. He sat there reading, spending all of his time scanning the labels. Medic watched him from his peripheral vision, wondering just what was so interesting about those labels. It was not as if Medic had not already checked them before. None of this material was new to Medic, who was the expert in this field. He did not need the Engineer to double check all of his research on simple supplies.

“We need five of those,” he noted to the Engineer, hoping that speaking to him might pull his attention away from what he was looking at.

“Hmph,” the Engineer grunted in response.

Medic tried not to read into it. But a grunt? A mere grunt? He wanted to turn on the man and punch him in the teeth. He moved on to another item on their list, adding it to their growing pile of assorted materials in a basket. He did his best not to pay the other two any mind. They were doing their own thing for some reason. Hopefully they would not mess up the list that they needed to complete.

“I think we got everything on the list,” Scout trotted over to put something into the basket as he approached them.

“Good, let’s check out then,” the Engineer hurried towards the counter.

Medic was a little nervous. He wanted to go over the items they had grabbed. If he could check them and make sure they were correct, they were unlikely to have problems. Instead the Engineer and Scout insisted they get through with paying for it.

As the man at the counter quietly scanned things, Medic started to notice what they had grabbed. More expensive brands had been stuffed into the basket. A few extra packages of products were mixed in. He quickly snatched what was wrong in the basket and stuffed the items into the other men’s arms.

“Put these back!” he snapped at them.

“What? Why?” the Scout protested.

“Because you grabbed the wrong ones!” he barked at them.

“So?” Scout scoffed.

“The hell you mean we grabbed the wrong ones? Don’t be picky about it!” the Engineer protested as well.

“We have a budget to stick to,” he told them sternly, “These are the more expensive brands. If you paid attention to the notes, I wrote down _exactly_ what we needed.”

The Engineer huffed through his nose, “Fine.”

The two of them hurried off to put things away. The man at the counter looked a little uncertain as to whether he should help or continue scanning things to add to their bill.

“This is…a lot of stuff,” the man said with an unsure tone.

“Sports events,” Medic dismissed the man’s unspoken inquiry.

He turned his attention back to the basket. He was not about to let the man scan something if it was not what they needed from the list. He did not feel like adding more to their list of things to steal. 

“Alright, your majesty,” Scout mocked as he approached with items in his hands, “Is this what you wanted.”

“That’ll do fine,” he snatched the items and put them on the counter to be scanned.

“This?” the Engineer caught his attention. Since he did not give him as much sass, he was gentler when taking the items from the Engineer.

“That should be everything on our list,” Medic assured them, “Which means it should ring up to the precise amount.”

Once the supplies were packed into the car, Medic felt a wave of relief. They were almost done, and they already had a lot of basic first aid supplies. He just had to deal with the Engineer and the Scout for a little longer.

This was making him feel al ittle sick though. It was a queasiness that he decided was due to his discomfort of being in the car with hem. If he hurried, he could get away from them and this queasiness.

“We should head on over to this other store you were talking about,” the Engineer suggested.

Medic nodded, but remained silent as the nauseated feeling increased. He dared not speak right now. Not that it would cause anything to happen, but it felt like it would.

“Hey, do you think they got Bonk at that store?” Scout asked.

The Engineer shook his head, “Not likely, son. You’ll be able to find other sugar drinks. That’s just in your own budget, of course.”

“Oh, come on man!” Scout pleaded without reason.

Medic wished they would stop talking. Then he wished that the car would stop moving. As soon as he realized that he was the one with control over this, he pulled over to the side.

“Uh…where are we?” Scout asked.

“Where are we? What are we doing here?” the Engineer inquired.

Unable to answer, Medic flung open the door and stepped towards the dead grass. It was not much , but the muscles in his body heaved against his stomach and tensed as the taste of acid filled his mouth. As he began to breathe again, he wiped the slime from his mouth. He stayed where he was, just breathing while relief slowly came.

A hand rubed his back, which surprised him when he saw the Engineer at his side. “You probably got a stomach bug or something,” the Engineer noted.

The Medic looked away for a moment to think. He was not sure what he could have eaten recently that would have caused this. He was sure that he had taken care of his own meals recently. Nothing he had eaten should be able to cause him any kind of digestive discomfort.

“We should get going. Maybe grab something for the nausea at the store,” Engineer suggested, “Go get in. I’ll drive.”

Medic was not sure he wanted to let somebody else drive his car, but he did not feel up to driving either. He moved around the car to climb into the passenger seat. He directed the Engineer quietly. Much to his relief, the others were mostly silent.

After parking, they headed into the store with its cold A/C. Medic walked quickly towards the pharmaceutical section, but he could see Cherry flagging him down from his peripheral vision. He moved quickly, hoping they might find what they needed quickly. Best case scenario, she would take the hint and leave him alone. He was in no position to socialize with her while his colleagues were around and his stomach was queasy. The Engineer and the Scout followed him.

“Alright, what are we getting from here?” the Scout inquired.

“Well, doc’s got a list of what we’re getting from here,” the Engineer relplied.

Medic wasted no time in grabbing things he knew were on the list. He barely looked around, reaching out to snatch up everything they needed. The sooner it was in the basket, the sooner he would be out of there.

“Is there anything I can help you find?” he recognized Cherry’s voice. He wished for it to go away so she would not come into too close of contact with the men he worked with. He barely wanted to be around them himself. He was sure they would just embarrass him.

He noticed the Engineer removed his dirty old ball cap. He gave her a smile that was surprisingly warm, almost as if he was a different person. “Actually, we have a list. And I think our friend knows where everything on it is.”

“Yea, but have you seen any Bonk?” the Scout ruined the façade the Engineer had concocted by putting an arm up on the shelves of the aisle. He was leaning his body against it, trying to look relaxed and suave.

“Bonk?” Cherry looked at him with utter confusion.

“Told you, Scout. There ain’t no Bonk in these stores. You’ll have to wait for the next shipment,” the Engineer explained.

“Um…” Cherry looked back to the Engineer, “Is that a weird medicince? Or…?”

“It’s just his energy drink,” the Engineer chuckled, “Don’t mind him. He went through his supply too fast.”

“Too much sugar isn’t good for you,” Cherry told Scout, “But there _are_ other energy drinks in the drink aisle.”

Medic wanted to walk over and intervene, but the thought of it made him queasy. The uneasy unsettling sensation of being on his feet right now was going to drive him insane. He needed to lay down on the cold floor, but that would be strange too.

“Thank you kindly, ma’am,” the Engineer spoke in a soft warm tone, “I reckon we have everything sorted.

Medic worked quickly to grab everything on the list. He was sure he was going to vomit soon. The thought of being sick inside the building felt worse.

“You alright there-?” the Engineer cut off his approach as Medic doubled over. “Ah.”

“Oh no! Are you alright?” Cherry ran over, with worry in the heightened pitch of her voice.

Medic dug through his pockets and found something to wipe his mouth with. He did not know what it was and he did not care. All the same, now that he was finished vomiting, he felt a lot better, which meant the guilt could settle in.

“I’ll get some paper towels,” Cherry said before darting off.

“Probably should have taken you back to the base,” the Engineer frowned, “Sorry, pal.”

The Medic shook his head, trying to not make eye contact. He was not sure why he was so embarrassed by this instance. He could not have stopped it. Though perhaps he could have countered the mess by grabbing a bin or something. He felt wretched from the inside out.

“Yuck,” Scout grunted, “Doc’s sick again?”

“Think he’s got something worse. We should get him back to base,” the Engineer insisted, placing a hand on Medic’s shoulder.

“What? Why? We still gotta get the stuff!” the Scout insisted.

“We can come back for that. We gotta take care of Medic,” the Engineer pressed. His hand pushed against Medic’s side, guiding him away from the pharmaceutical aisle towards the door.

“Well, let’s just pay for what we got and then take doc back!” the Scout scoffed.

“Scout, the man is puking a lung,” the Engineer barked, “Clearly ain’t food poisoning. Probably sick with something worse. Let’s head back to base and we’ll come back for the rest of this.”

Medic felt like he was having some surreal out of body experience. There must have been some form of ulterior motive here. The Engineer _never_ showed concern for others. He especially did not give any concern for Medic’s health before this.

He remained wary as they stepped out into the dry heat. Suddenly, the feeling of relief drifted away as the distant dread of vomiting again settled in. He was not sure when it was coming though. It could be coming now or later.

“Just take a seat in the car, while I wrangle Scout,” the Engineer patted his back before doubling back into the store.

Medic nodded and slowly made his way over to the car. He unlocked and opened the passenger side door so he could sit down. He left the door open, as the heat wafted over him in a sickening wave.

He took a deep breath and counted slowly down from ten. He just had to focus on the numbers and his breathing. Just take deep breaths that would settle his pounding heart.

“Gramps!” he was startled into looking up at Cherry approached the car. She had some things in her hands, which she handed to him. “Here, take this.”

He looked at the pill that she popped out of the package into his hand, “What is it?”

“It’s for nausea,” she assured him, “And take this.”

“Huh?” he took the bottle of cold liquid and stared at it. He could not fathom reading right now.

“It’s ginger ale,” she assured him, “It’ll help with nausea and it’ll wash down that pill.”

“Ah,” he popped the pill into his mouth and downed some of the bubbly drink.

Cherry pressed the back of her hand to his forehead, “You don’t seem feverish. That’s good.”

“I don’t know what it is,” he grumbled. He usually knew why he was sick, since there were few ways that he could be sick without the usual medigun use healing it away. Then again, medigun did not always get rid of bacteria and viruses, it just treated symptoms and boosted the immune system.

“It’ll be okay,” she gave him some napkins, “Clean yourself up. Drink lots of fluids. Go take a nap. Take care of yourself, okay?”

He nodded slowly and sighed, “I have a lot to get done. I can’t afford to be sick right now.”

She rubbed his shoulder, “I feel for you, grandpa.” Her head whipped around and she looked back at him. “I gotta go. But you stay safe, okay?”

He nodded, looking up to see the Engineer and the Scout approaching. Cherry trotted off past them to the store. Medic capped the bottle of fluids and set it on the floor. He turned his attention to using the napkins to clean up anything that had been missed, which was not much.

“Hey doc,” the Engineer greeted him as he opened the driver’s side door, “What was that about?”

“She brought napkins for me,” Medic gestured with the napkins in his hand.

“Man,” Scout whined as he climbed into the back seat, “I get that kind of attention from ladies all the time though. Like, I don’t have to be sick to get their attention either. They just sort of flock to me.”

The Engineer started the engine, before turning to Medic, “You ready?”

“Um…yes?” Medic gave him a confused look.

“If you need a minute to sit and breathe, we can wait,” the Engineer assured him.

“Man, are we going or not? I’m not about to just sit here all day!” the Scout smacked the back of the driver’s seat.

The Engineer turned around and fixed the younger mercenary with a glare, “Son, if you don’t shut your mouth, I’m going to wipe that stupid look off your face.”

“Oh yea? Why don’t you come back here, and I’ll break your teeth in,” Scout challenged.

“Would you two stop!” Medic raised his voice.

The car became deadly silent. It was terrifying. Medic was not sure there were many instances when the mercenaries actually listened to him when he spoke, let alone when he told them to shut up.

“I have no idea why I’m sick. I’m starting to get a headache. There is too much to do and not enough supplies to get our work done. I don’t even have a functional work space to do extra off-field work in. I don’t have any idea where I’m going to store any of these supplies. But YOU TWO!” Medic put all of his breath into these words, “All of you! All of you can’t handle just existing for ten minutes without starting something! A shouting match, a fight, a-a-uh…anything!”

There was still more silence. The Engineer was looking at him, but Scout was looking away. He hoped it was in shame, and not an attempt to think of some clever comeback. He was in no mood to hear a comeback.

“I can’t do my work without somebody starting a fight that causes more injuries. I cannot do my work without every single one of you talking back to me about it,” Medic ranted his frustrations, “I cannot go a day without _somebody_ being injured, because none of you take care of your health!”

There was further silence for his words. Neither of them seemed to want to speak. Or perhaps they were waiting for the right moment. That thought brought up a wave of dread and anxiety.

“None of you listen to me when I tell you about your health, and then you’re _surprised_ when you get injured in certain ways!” Medic complained, “You need to even out where you carry your equipment.” He pointed to the Engineer’s nose, which caused the man’s eyes to widen slightly. “Because now you walk with a gimp and no matter how much you believe it’s a swagger, you look like you have a bum leg…because you can’t fathom evening out the muscles of your back and shoulders.”

The Engineer swallowed. His lips moved in a way that showed he was thinking. He was probably a bit frustrated too, wishing he could give Medic a tongue lashing in return.

“And you,” he turned in his seat to look at the Scout.

“What?” Scout glared at him.

“Stop drinking Bonk! The health risks are 99% and they are right on the label!” the Medic barked.

“He can’t read,” the Engineer said quietly.

“Then read it for him!” the Medic raised his voice at the Engineer, “Read the goddamn labels of what you consume! They tell you the risks, and if this boy can’t read then help him! For the love of- some of the simplest side effects include irritability, memory loss and skin irritation! It’s no wonder he’s irritable and doesn’t pay attention well, every ounce of that he drinks affects his neurology!”

“Uh…is that bad?” Scout asked, with a worried tone.

“Poor effects on your neurons? YES!” Medic shouted, “And you need to stop picking fights with every goddamn mercenary on base! If you can manage a goddamn smile for a pretty girl in the store who has barely said a fucking word outside of what she is _required_ to say, then you can spare to have some patience and better attitudes towards coworkers who are doing their jobs! Especially coworkers who are _trying_ to help you!” He straightened out his position in the seat and slammed his door shut. He huffed in frustration as he turned his gaze away from both of them.

“I’m sorry you feel that way, doc,” the Engineer said softly, as he buckled his seatbelt.

“Suck on a rotten egg!” Medic spat, “These are not things I feel. These are things I know! And if you can be all soft and sweet to somebody you don’t even know, then you can muster up an _attempt_ at actually giving a shit about what your coworkers are saying. Because you are failing!”

“I do my work just fine,” the Engineer grimaced as he put the vehicle into drive.

“And there you go, not even listening!” the Medic threw his hands up into the air in frustration.

“If I wanted to be cursed out by an ass, I’d go to Soldier or Heavy or somebody else to hear their opinions about my dispenser placement,” the Engineer grumbled.

“Pah!” was all that left Medic’s mouth before he became overwhelmed with the sensation of his stomach erupting. He slapped a hand over his mouth and quickly grabbed at the steering wheel. He immediately realized that this would not stop the vehicle, and he had no further control. He released the wheel and threw the door open. The vehicle stopped, not having left the parking lot, which allowed him to tumble out.

“Here you are yapping loud like an angry dog,” he could barely hear the Engineer talking over him being sick, “Like you ain’t got your own problems. You’re the goddamn doctor and you’re sick.”

Medic spat the rest out before climbing back in and closing the door. He used the napkins to wipe his face. He regretted spitting up as it meant the medicine given to him by Cherry was likely gone.

“Since when do you ever give a shit?” Medic growled as he pulled on the seatbelt.

“Your health and well-being is important to the team, doc,” the Engineer insisted.

“Since when?” Medic demanded in a hoarse tired voice. He was so tired of barfing. He just wanted to be done with being sick.

“It’s always been that way!” the Engineer raised his voice.

Medic took his time to settle into the seat. His body was so tired. He wanted to just lay there and closed his eyes. He could drift off to sleep on this uncomfortable seat and still have a pleasant time of it.

“On what occasion have any of you bothered to check if I had eaten?” he asked.

“You’re a grown man,” the Engineer pulled the car out of the lot, “You can take care of yourself, like the rest of us.”

“How many nights have I been in the infirmary working on the problems that you all have? Hmm? Have you ever paid attention to that?” Medic asked.

“That’s part of your job,” the Engineer insisted firmly. He was focused on driving, despite being part of the conversation.

“So many nights of getting only a few hours of sleep…if that!” Medic mumbled, “What time do I have to cook a meal? In the evening? In the morning? I have no time. No time to prepare anything. No time to take care of anything.”

“I don’t know what you want me to do, doc,” the Engineer shrugged.

“Oh…I uh…hadn’t thought of that,” Scout spoke up from the back.

“Yea,” Medic looked in the rear view mirror to see the Scout’s concerned expression, “Nobody really bothers to check and make sure others have been taken care of. Working late doesn’t just mean I get less sleep, it often means I don’t eat anything.”

“Well, I mean…you gotta eat something!” the Scout insisted, “You can’t just go to bed on an empty stomach.”

“It’s either get some sleep or get some food. With the way the brain works, sleep wins more often,” Medic sighed and closed his eyes. Even now he was tired. Talking about food made him hungry. That would require fighting with the queasiness in his belly though. “Everyone is dissatisfied that I don’t do more for them, but I can’t seem to get enough time to do the bare minimum for me.”

“You want people to pay attention to you?” the Engineer asked, with a sour tone.

“I want to know,” Medic opened his eyes and faced the Engineer, “Where you get off acting like you give a shit? You don’t! None of you do! Don’t start pretending now! You may be excellent at your work as an Engineer, but you’re terrible when it comes to being a team.”

He settled back into his seat and closed his eyes. He was too tired to care that the car was quiet. He just started counting until he forgot what number he was on…


	24. Cared About

Medic was not sure when he fell asleep. As the vehicle pulled to a stop though, his eyes popped open. All he could do was sigh, knowing there was so much they did not get from the store yet, so much they had to unload, and nowhere planned for those things to go.

He silently opened the door and climbed out. He did not address the Scout or the Engineer as he made his way to the car’s trunk. The other two followed, silently taking bags they had haphazardly thrown in after the pharmacy trip.

They each grabbed their share of the bags’ weight and carried them through the base. When they stepped into the infirmary, it quickly became clear where things should go. Though the others seemed to fumble over this information, Medic quickly opened the unmarred cupboards and began stuffing them full of supplies. He opened drawers to check how sturdy they were, before he stuffed them full as well.

“Don’t you think you ought to sort that?” the Engineer had a worried frown.

Medic looked the American in the eye, “When I am not puking, I will.”

“R-right,” the Engineer shuffled his feet before making his way to the door.

Medic followed behind him, with Scout trailing along. Scout was rather quiet compared to his normal behavior. He was grateful for the silence, so he said nothing about it. Instead, he made his way to his room and threw himself into bed. Maybe if he got more sleep, he could wake up feeling refreshed.

When Medic woke up, he did not necessarily feel refreshed, though he did feel better. He was immediately wary that he might puke again. He moved slowly to get out of bed and move about.

A knock came at the door and he suddenly realized that he had woken for a reason. He became very aware that he had gone to sleep in what he was wearing, so now he was a mess with his tie and button up wrinkled against his chest. He hated to admit that he looked pathetic.

More knocking came, along with Scout’s voice, “Doc? Are you there?”

“What is it?” he called back.

“Uh…I was wondering how you’re doing?” the Scout called through the door.

“Fine, I’m fine,” Medic huffed. Great, now Scout was going to pretend to care. This was going to be annoying.

“Oh, good, um…” Scout turned the handle and the door creaked open, “I got something for ya. If you think you can stomach it, I mean.” As the door swung open, the smell of steaming chicken broth filled the room.

Medic had to admit that after being sick and likely missing a meal during his sleep, his stomach was eager for food. He would not even care how bad it was, he was so hungry.

“My ma used to make this for me when I was sick in bed,” Scout explained, as he brought his tray in, “Chicken noodle soup with juice.” Scout chuckled nervously as he set the tray on the bedside stand. “Now that I think about it, I think it was for when I had a cold, not when I was sick. But you know I think I can get some ginger tea.”

Medic looked from the tray to the younger man. It felt like the first time they had interacted as human beings. It was as if for the first time he was seeing Scout as a person, whilst Scout was seeing Medic as a person.

“Scout?” he interrupted the young man, stopping him from saying more.

“Yea?” big blue eyes turned to him with so much uncertainty.

“Thank you,” he gave the Scout a nod of acknowledgment.

“N-no problem,” Scout smiled, “I’ll just get out of your hair. You should just relax the rest of the day. Don’t worry what the others say and stuff. Nobody’s looking out for you, so you gotta look out for yourself.”

“R-right,” Medic nodded, “Again, thank you.”

Scout made his way out of the room, leaving Medic alone with this tray. He took the bowl of soup off the tray and tested the soup. It was hot and burned his tongue. As soon as he tasted the chicken though, he did not care. He just wanted to fill his stomach.

When he finished eating, Medic picked up the tray of dirty dishes and brought it to the kitchen. He could hear the distant chatter of some men playing a card game in another room. He ignored it as he cleaned the dishes.

He finished cleaning up and put the dishes away where they should be. Then he headed back to his room to lay down and sleep. He paused along the way as chatter came from the recreational room.

“-he’s really just a damn child,” the Engineer was saying.

Medic paused, moving closer to the doorway to get better hearing of what was going on. There were grunts, either of acknowledgement or agreements, he could not be sure.

“I mean, sometimes you just need somebody to pick you up,” Scout said.

“He’s a grown man, he can take care of himself,” the Engineer argued.

“A doctor no less,” the Sniper chimed in, “It wouldn’t surprise me to find out he doesn’t have any medical training whatsoever. I certainly wasn’t surprised to learn he doesn’t have a license to practice here.”

“He at least knows what he’s doing,” Scout offered.

“If he knew what he was doing, he wouldn’t be sick,” the Engineer argued.

“If Engineer know what he is doing, then would not lose sentry gun to RED Spy,” the Heavy Weapons Guy spoke up. How uncharacteristic of him, Medic thought.

“Come again?” Engineer’s tone was dripping with challenge.

“Is just thing,” Heavy said, “You work, but you fail. He work, but he fail. You both do hard work, but fail. Is not that don’t know what to do.”

“I’m kinda lost here,” the Scout said.

“I think what he’s trying to say is that if you’re going to accuse the Medic of not knowing what he is doing, then it can be pointed at you by the same strokes,” the Spy’s suave voice joined the group.

“I don’t think he has anything that can beat eleven PhDs,” the Engineer chuckled, “I have that to prove it. He ain’t even got a license.”

“And I bet half o’ ya don’t even have passports,” the Scout said, with arms flailing.

“Why would we need passports?” the Soldier demanded.

“Because some of us like a vacation away from this wretched place,” the Spy answered.

“How dare you speak of my America in such a manner!” the Soldier shouted.

Silence suddenly hit the room. He could hear the Soldier’s boots moving across the floor. He could hear the clip sound of the Spy’s polished shoes as well.

“You wanna say that anti-America commie shit to my face?” the Soldier raised his voice.

Knowing that this would just be a fight nobody would stop, Medic sighed and made his way off to his room. Sleep was calling him again. All he wanted was a warm blanket and some goddamn sleep.

The week passed uneventfully. It was too uneventful. Half of their matches resulted in stalemates. It was the first the two teams had really gone head to head and stopped short of making a win. Medic wondered what could be happening, and it seemed like it was going to be stuck like this.

Then the RED team finally won. Wary for his project, Medic ran to hide. Fearfully trembling, it occurred to him that he had not respawned in a while. He had not respawned in a few days- nay a whole work week! That thought led to a sensation of panic as he thought of a whole week being lost because he had not respawned. The more time he lost on this project, he was sure the more time he would have to spend on this project, if it even worked.

Then he wondered about respawn. Why had he not respawned? It was not as if nobody had shot at him recently. His teammates had not done better to protect him. He certainly had not turned out with better ways to avoid getting killed. Yet he had not died during this work week.

Boots came towards his hiding spot and he became deathly silent. He covered his mouth, not daring to breathe. He begged for mercy in his mind, so that whatever deity existed may spare him.

The boots stopped by his hiding spot. He closed his eyes and sent a prayer. Let this person move on to find some other mercenary on BLU. He did not want to be found. He could not afford to be found. He had no idea what might happen if he respawned now but he was unwilling to find out.

“Aha!” his eyes shot open to see the RED Medic’s face peering under the ledge at him, “There you are! I was wondering if you were hiding here _again_!”

“Again?” the BLU Medic muttered. It had not occurred to him that he had made this a regular spot.

“You should be a bit more clever than that,” the RED laughed.

“It’s cleverer,” the BLU corrected.

“Whatever,” the RED dismissed the correction, “You wouldn’t believe how difficult it’s been to keep my team off your tail. You’re like a walking target. I swear, you don’t know how to use the rest of your team as shields. Do you ever consider that you should be more worried about yourself?”

“What are you talking about?” the BLU Medic blinked at him.

“You know,” the RED Medic twisted his wrist in an awkward gesture, “I’ve been trying to avoid you dying. I hope it’s worked, I don’t actually have access to the information to check.”

“Oh,” BLU blinked, “I…haven’t died this work week. It’s been strange. You were involved?”

“I was involved, yes,” the RED nodded, “Of course I am not unaware of the project’s fragility!”

“And if you get caught?” the BLU asked.

“Nobody is going to catch me,” the RED chuckled, “Now, stay there. I have to make sure the rest are heading back to base.”

The BLU Medic was not about to argue with him. He was not in any mood to respawn. He was not in any mood to go anywhere, not while there were REDs around and no BLUs to help him.

He was not sure how long he had been there. He had started peeling at the wood over his head out of boredom. It was a dreary place to be, and as terrified as he was he needed something to do.

“Alright!” he was startled by the RED Medic’s reappearance, “You can come out now!”

“You expect me to believe that?” the BLU argued.

“If I wanted to kill you, this would be the place to do so,” the RED argued, “Besides, I’m invested in your project. It seems like the best way to go about it is to avoid respawn all together, don’t you think.”

“I would agree on that, yes,” the BLU Medic agreed hesitantly. He carefully slipped out from his hiding space. The RED reached down to grab his arm and pull him out. Once he was free, he scrambled to his feet and brushed off his pants.

“Come,” the RED beckoned for him to follow, “You should unwind.”

“I _should_ be heading back to my base,” the BLU argued, “Just as you should be heading back to _your_ base.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Do your _wonderful_ teammates have something pleasant planned for you to relax after a long day of working while pregnant?” the RED’s tongue was dripping with mirth for the BLU teammates.

The BLU Medic looked away as he admitted to himself that even _he_ hated his teammates. He could not argue with the RED knowing that they were awful to their own team. So, he bit his tongue and let it go.

“I didn’t think so,” the RED gestured again for the BLU to follow him, “Right this way.”

The BLU followed along in step with his RED counterpart. They made their way to a far edge of the battlements. This was an area that was not used as often. It was full of perfect spots for an enemy Spy and was easy to get pinned down and killed in.

The usually dirty and dreary building was filled with tiny lights that looked meant for a holiday event. They were strung up by nails that were freshly put in. The lights changed the otherwise dark appearance into something bright and cheery. All of the usual shadows were lit up, chasing away chances of sneaky mercenaries taking them by surprise.

Further in, the RED Medic revealed that he had set up a table and chairs similar to their set up in another area. Over the spool draped a red and white checkered cloth. To further brighten the sitting area was an array of mismatched candles meant for emergency use. He knew they were emergency candles, because his base received the same ones in their resupply shipments. They were placed on mismatched holder sets. One looked like a very nice antique, with a dark sheen and beaded engravings. The one beside it was slightly fancy, if obviously cheap – it was clearly made simply but it was designed to look good. Another was a plain white holder that was not meant to be lifted and carried while the wick was lit.

On top of the table cloth were some covered platters. He could faintly smell something savory under them, but he could not tell what they were. His eagerness got the better of him, as his stomach started to growl. When he approached the table, he pulled aside the covers, curious to see what was beneath them.

Steam billowed into his face from the fresh roasted poultry. The essence of seasonings and drippings that filled the base of its tray. His eyes darted from the darkened meat towards the other platters, wondering what else was in them. He also wondered, how the RED had any time to make any of this.

“I hope you are hungry,” the RED picked up a cloth to protect his hand as he shifted some of the dishes around, “I’m afraid there is more than one man can handle alone.”

The BLU eyed him sideways, “How would you have the time to make all of this?”

“I have my ways,” the RED gave him a sly grin.

“I’m suspicious of food you could magically prepare with no time to do so,” the BLU Medic argued.

The RED rolled his eyes, “Ah…well…keeping things interesting this week hasn’t been easy. I’ve had to excuse myself a few times from the fight. I may have on occasion dabbled in food prep during that time.”

The BLU Medic raised his eyebrows, “And your teammates just…allow it?”

“Allow it?” the RED’s tone was a bit aghast at the suggestion, “They’ve been more than happy to finish their work with a hot meal on more than one occasion. They’re more than fine with me slipping off to prepare something that will either sooth their frustrations or give them something to celebrate over.”

“You are an absolute madman,” the BLU chuckled.

The RED Medic chuckled smugly, “Why thank you.” He gestured to the overturned crates turned into chairs. They had cloth draped over them as well, covering what must have been comforters – perhaps blankets to sit on. “Please,” the RED spoke insistently, “Have a seat.”

The BLU took a breath and as he was about to sit, he was hit with a wave of nausea. The first thought that came to his head was “not again!” before he raced from the building to avoid ruining what had to have been hours of work.

“Wait!” the RED followed at his heel until they were outside.

The BLU Medic leaned one hand against the building so he would not lose his balance. He breathed carefully as it subsided, allowing him to feel some sense of normal. He counted down from ten, trying to gather his wits calmly.

“Ah! Morning sickness,” the RED Medic commented, “I suppose the name is not very helpful, since it can arrive at any time of the day.”

When the BLU Medic turned to look at the other man, he intended to apologize but found the other man directly in his space. He fell silent as the RED pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the BLU’s mouth with it. He was not sure about what he could say in this very strange moment.

“You feel better?” the RED asked.

The BLU Medic nodded, too afraid to open his mouth and speak, as the awkwardness of the situation hung over his head.

“Good,” the RED Medic spoke so softly, “Do you feel up to eating? Or have you lost the appetite?”

The BLU Medic nodded, before he realized that he needed to speak on the matter, “I am starving.”

The RED Medic, “Yes, it doesn’t seem like you’ve eaten recently, have you.”

The BLU shook his head reluctantly, “No, I haven’t. We don’t often take any kind of break for food.”

“That is a shame,” the RED Medic lingered a moment before he turned back to the entry way, “Let’s go inside. We can talk more over turkey.”


	25. New Wing

“Morning sickness,” Medic muttered to himself. He was picking up the mess of an infirmary that was left from the fire. It was about time he sorted everything. Now that he was looking at it, it felt like a sorrier state than he had thought before.

What was once his workspace was now just charred remains. Half of the room was scarred with black, with materials that were fully destroyed. If only it could be a perfect split. He thought perhaps the MRI machine would have fared the worst with little affect.

The supplies brought in from the pharmacy were stacked on counter tops to make room in the drawers and cupboards. He began sorting through them, removing packaging where needed. He had to make less space than he normally had work, so the usual arrangement simply would not work. He had to reassemble the storage spaces with great care, so as to leave room for everything.

“To think I overlooked it,” he continued to mutter to himself.

He sorted the bandages according to width so they would be in easy access. He wanted to make sure everything was aligned in such a way that he did not have to think too hard about which one he was grabbing. He just needed it to be ready for when he was working on a patient.

The sudden bang of the double doors flying open startled him. He spun around to face a strange man in a dark purplish trenchcoat. Medic was further taken aback upon seeing the man’s bright off-yellow snake skin shoes. In hindsight, maybe the wide brimby hat on his head and the scarf wrapped around his face should have been his first concerns.

As the man grabbed for his coat, Medic dodged for a weapon. No way would some lunatic with a death wish get the better of him with a shot like this. He ducked behind the desk and unlocked one of the drawers. Inside lay a gun, and as his hand grabbed it, he rose to his feet.

The moment he pulled the trigger was the moment a screen on the man’s chest turned on. He was just registering the Administrator’s face as he processed that the stranger was dead. He quickly stepped around the desk and walked towards the body as it slumped to the floor.

“Ugh,” the Administrator sounded tired, “Not another one. You kill my messengers and I can’t get my monitors back. You mercenaries need to learn to calm down.”

“You sent a stranger onto guarded turf,” he turned the body over, letting the dead man slump as he looked at the monitor, “Do you expect me to do what I’m paid for? Or to go through respawn?”

“Your snarky attitude has been noted,” the Administrator tapped the ashes off the end of her cigarette.

“What do you want so badly that you could not have called?” he demanded.

“I _did_ call, but the phone line seems to have…disconnected,” the old woman croaked.

He glanced at his desk where the phone was. It took him a moment to realize that he never did replace the phone’s plug after his temper tantrum. In everything that had happened and even in reorganizing what was left of the infirmary, he never did fix the phone situation. Not that he gave it any thought before.

The Administrator sighed, “It’s been made apparent to me that your lot will be struggling with supplies…and I need your hand.”

“My hand?” he looked at her puzzled.

“I have a little side project,” she explained, “It’s an animal situation. You’re fond of animals, aren’t you?”

“I considered myself caught between veterinary science and medical science as a youth, but I do not have formal training,” he explained.

“Well, I’ll need you to use what you _do_ know,” she tapped a cigarette against her finger, letting the ash fall off camera.

“I am presuming this is not something to legally have on the books?” he squinted at her.

“No,” she glared back at him, “And you are not to tell a soul.”

“What is this side project? And why do you need me?” he folded his arms as he watched the woman on the screen.

She was unmoved. Unprovoked. She barely batted an eye at him. She just kept on as usual.

“A little side venture with exotic animals has led to the development of…new animals,” she explained.

“New animals?” he quirked an eyebrow at her.

“Mutations in genetic code were used to alter the animals in question,” she explained, “And the laboratory was raided. The unfortunate results has left some…precariously injured animals.”

“Humm…” he turned his gaze to the floor for a moment of thought. He had not been around animals in a long time. Most of the animals he _wanted_ to handle when he was younger were far out of reach in the first place. He was not even sure where he could start with an animal’s injury when he was only prepared for minor human first aid.

“I will send with them the supplies you will need for their care plus any other veterinary supplies,” she explained.

“Okay, you expect me to do all of this extra work for nothing? I already work from before sun up to after sun down,” he argued.

“We all make sacrifices,” she rolled her eyes, “I’ve already prepared a bonus for your pay. We weren’t expecting you to do this additional work for nothing.”

He glanced around the infirmary. Despite his efforts, there was so much disarray that he could do nothing about. He would just have to make do with what was there. Unless, he took this chance to convince her to fix this mess.

“I have a condition,” he told her firmly.

She gave a loud huff through her nose that billowed smoke, “What condition?”

“Your animals will need a location to stay and I need to be able to keep these men in fighting form. I would barely have time for both, and if you can’t see from this angle, half of this infirmary was destroyed.”

“Yes, I take it the fire did a lot of damage. You should be more careful when handling flammable things,” she sucked on her cigarette.

He took a breath as he felt the flame of anger burning in his sternum, “The fire was caused by an electrical shortage. It’s a shortage in the walls of this building that was built by not _us_ but by your men!”

“Not my men,” she protested.

“Either way, you gave us faulty wiring,” he said sternly.

“It worked fine for years,” she argued.

“Doesn’t matter,” he waved off her argument, “You fix and restock the infirmary or no deal.”

She let out a breath of smoke and ash and closed her eyes. She took only a moment to think before she looked at him and said, “Deal.”

He struggled to refrain from celebrating too openly. She might get the wrong idea about the situation.

“I’ll send construction workers to repair the infirmary and build a section for the animals,” she explained.

“Great!” he smiled.

“Your infirmary will be restocked with a section for animals as well,” she explained, “Does that sound reasonable?”

“Yes, thank you,” he said, hoping he did not sound too desperate to have this go his way.

It was no more than twenty hours before a whole construction crew showed up at the BLU base. It was at this time that Medic wondered if the RED Medic had been given this same option. Surely if she reached out to him, then he did not take it. It would be silly to take on more work like this given their already full workload.

He watched from his desk chair, pretending to be pouring himself over important documents. The workmen tore down the burned wall, simultaneously surprised and mesmerized by the fact that such a dastardly fire had wreaked havoc and the men here were still working. He kept his eye on them, wary that they may also be thieves and pocket something that did not belong to them. The infirmary had very little to take, so there was nothing he could afford to lose.

Like clockwork, the construction workers returned again the next day. Medic and his team were once again required to continue their work, but Medic was distracted by a list of things he hoped he remembered to lock in drawers. Those workers were not there for them and did not have a semblance of an idea of what they could do to the construction workers for snatching anything. Medic did not want the headache of having to hunt somebody down just to pry a medicine bottle out of his dead hands.

He also wondered about the finished product. The Administrator had mentioned adding on a section for the animals. He was not sure what that would look like. Maybe he would have a look at it after they finished on the battlefield.

“Heads up!” a call came a bit too late. He realized that it was on purpose, as the RED Scout slammed a baseball directly into his face. The impact crushed against his nose and the crack was an audible sound. “You got owned!” the RED Scout laughed.

“Hide coward!” a Russian voice roared over the following rain of bullets. The RED screamed and fled for his life.

Medic pushed himself off the ground, slowly fixing his bent glasses. He looked at the BLU Heavy, who gave him a solemn nod. He scrambled to his feet. He was so tired and his body felt so heavy. But he had to get up, so he forced himself to move. He cradled his medigun in both arms and rushed to follow the Heavy.

When the day ended, the Administrator announced their crushing defeat. The REDs fell upon them so fast that he had no time to think. Before he knew what happened, he opened his eyes in the respawn room. He took a breath and checked himself. He was alive, but he did not know about the experiment.

Seeing the door was unlocked, he headed into the base and trotted to the infirmary. He needed to take his mind off what might be a failed project by looking at the progress in the infirmary. When he swung the doors open, he was greeted by the smell of sawdust and PVC glue. The area that was once charred and burned looked pristine and new. Untouched tile floors were washed clean and functioning lights hung where they were supposed to be. The wall sat a bit farther than it used to, giving more space to the infirmary. The charred windows were gone, replaced only by walls and a set of thick wooden double doors.

Before he could approach the doors, the phone began to ring. Startled, he stopped in his tracks and turned to the phone. He had forgotten that he plugged it back in. It had to be the Administrator calling. He was not surprised to hear her voice when he picked up the phone.

“I hope the work has been accomplished to standard,” she spoke with no semblance of hope in her voice, “There will be more workers coming in tomorrow to make some finishing touches. They insisted they were not quite finished.”

“Finishing touches?” he asked.

“Have you seen the work?” she inquired.

“Not as of yet,” he ran a hand over his face. He was so tired from today. He could only thank respawn for his repaired glasses, because it did not give him any semblance of feeling rested.

“When you do, check for the so-called calking,” she told him, “They said they’re supposed to calk it.

“Calk it? Isn’t it a space for animals?” he asked.

“Indeed,” the Administrator sighed, “There was also not much time to waste, so you should find that the animals have been located to the stalls already.”

“Already?” his heartrate rose as he realized he was not ready. He had no form of preparation, let alone research on whatever animals he would be taking care of.

“They’re all bred, so make sure the workers who come tomorrow do not stress them,” the Administrator told him, “I’m giving you leave for the day. Don’t fail me.”

“I won’t,” he informed her. The dial tone filled the line after the click that said she hung up.

He put the phone down and walked over to the doors. It took a bit of effort to heave these doors open. They were nice and thick to hold back some sort of animal. His heart was rushing, though he was not sure if it was fear or excitement. Maybe a mix of both.

As soon as he stepped in, he got the smell of hay and the feeling of stepping into a newly built stable. The first face to greet him was a big bay mare, who poked her head over her stall door to look at him. Her ears pricked, twitching with curious attention. She was wary of this new place and especially wary of this new person.

He approached her with careful steps and held his hand to allow her to smell him. At least he knew how to take care of a horse, that would be easy. Now he had to find out what else was here. If a horse was somehow exotic, then he was not sure he should be afraid of anything else.

He chuckled to himself as he stepped away from the mare to check the other stalls. He looked over the door across from hers and peered down at a goat with long gray fur. The goat looked up at him with those weird eyes and horizontal pupils. He stared with a furrowed brow as she opened her mouth wide and bleated at him. It was a demonic sound that sent a tremor through his body.

“Nope! Deal with you later!” he stepped away from the stall door.

He approached the next door to find a donkey. She was scratching her side with her teeth, completely unperturbed and unconcerned with the new person nearby. At least she would be as easy to take care of as a goat or a horse.

The next stall startled him as his eyes laid upon a big yellow cat. He took a step back, startled by what he saw. He looked at the door, realizing that it was one of the only two doors that did not separate top from bottom but had a window of glass.

He stepped up to the window again, hesitant and unsure. The cat was peering back at him, looking intently with big dark eyes. His heart was racing as he studied her speckled body. Her body was slim and limber. She looked like she could barely stand to the height of a tiger. After studying her coat and the tear-like lines on her face, he realized that this was a cheetah.

“Okay,” he breathed as he stepped away from the door. He was not sure how he would take care of a cheetah.

Concern and dread intermingled as he approached the other windowed door. Curled up like a giant ball of fluff was a grizzly. She barely noticed his presence, with her back to turned to the door. He stepped quietly away to avoid waking her.

He took a slow breath as he approached another stall. The door was nailed together and the top wired like a glass window might be. As he approached a small animal threw itself onto the links, exposing her belly to the onlooker.

Startled, he took a step back before peering closer. The creature moved with fast jerks as she studied the new person. As soon as she decided that he was too close, she bounded away, cowering in a cubby overflowing with a nest.

He took a minute to ponder. He knew the name of this creature in English, if he could just wrap his mouth around the word. It took him a moment to voice the word “squirrel,” but once he did he was satisfied with the result.

He gave a laugh, “A squirrel. Am I supposed to feed it nuts or something?”

A sound shook him and he hurried to the next door. He stopped short as a canine-like head poked over the door. He froze, staring at a dark muzzle that led up to dark round eyes. His heart was thumping in his ears as he realized that something like a wolf had been left in a stall with nothing to hold it back from jumping out. Its long pointed ears were erect as it listened to him, as if watching for the right moment to pounce on him.

As the silence grew ever longer in time, he took slow breaths. It became more and more apparent to him that nothing was going to happen. He wondered why the animal kept staring at him, if it was going to do nothing. As he relaxed, he drew a bit closer.

The animal pushed off of the door and landed on the ground. He peered over the edge to see that the animal in question was actually smaller than he had expected. She was nowhere the size of a wolf, he was not even sure what he was thinking.

He leaned against the door as the creature escaped into a makeshift den, leaving him with only memory of her appearance. She was striped with a black mane that ran down her body. He was not sure of any canine that had a look like this.

He moved on to another stall, where he was greeted by a grumpy-looking face. He was not sure if she was a llama or an alpaca, but she spat directly into his face. Cursing, he trotted back down the aisle into the infirmary, searching blindly for the sink. He heard the double doors swing open and footsteps come in.

“Hey doc!” he heard the Scout announce himself.

“Just a moment,” he found the spigot of the sink and quickly turned it on. He lavished his face and neck with water, hoping to be rid of the acrid stench.

“Ew! Did you throw up?” Scout sounded disgusted.

“What do you want?” he turned off the sink and grabbed one of the clean medical rags to wipe himself dry.

“I mean, are you sick? Doc, if you’re sick, you should be in bed, I think,” Scout was stammering over words.

“Huh?” he frowned at the Scout.

“If you’re sick, I’ll tell the guys you got something like…contagious or something,” he gestured with his thumb towards the door, “They’ll scamper off real quick.”

“I’m not sick,” Medic informed him.

“Oh? You’re not? Phew,” Scout wiped his brow as if there was stress sweat there, “Cause…I didn’t forget ‘bout the other day. Stuff we talked about…I get you need to like…take care of yourself being sick and all. I guess it’s better if you’re able to do that, than if we got that RED guy coming in here.”

He tossed the rag aside and strolled to the door past Scout. Scout followed at his heel as he stepped into the waiting area to confront the others. They all looked at him with expectant eyes.

“Hey doc,” the Sniper immediately stood up and gestured to his hand. It was bent beyond ninety degrees in the wrong direction and the fingers were mangled. “Please…please tell me we have supplies to fix this.”

“I told you, we didn’t get anything for casts,” the Engineer grimaced.

“Why not?” the Heavy asked.

“Because we didn’t find any!” the Engineer argued, “Even if we had a bigger budget, I didn’t see any cast things!”

“AHEM!” Medic called their attentions, “I have good news and bad news.” He placed his hands behind his back as he paced slowly past the double line of mercenaries. “The good news is that we now have a fully stocked infirmary with the means to repair your hand to a state of painless working condition.” He stopped momentarily to look over the hand. It gave him second-hand pain just looking at it. “We also have the medication required to clear up this nasty rash you’ve all spread.”

“Doc, are you confirming that every man here has a rash?” the Soldier gestured to several other mercenaries.

Medic glanced around and shook his head, “Not all, but most of you. Shut up.”

“You never mentioned anything about the rash before,” the Engineer noted.

“Yes, well that’s because I didn’t have the full information on it or its treatment,” Medic answered.

“Is it painful?” the Demoman winced.

“What?” Medic raised an eyebrow at him.

“The treatment,” the Demoman was still wincing. Medic was still confused because the Demoman did not have the condition, unless he contracted it recently.

“On the contrary, a good dose of antibiotics for a week and you’ll all be good as new!” Medic announced.

“Phew!” Sniper spoke up loudly, “That’s more good news than I was expecting.”

“None of us would be in this situation if you had any form of hygienic behavior,” the Spy growled.

“I’m hygienic, you lousy-”

Sniper was cut off as Spy snapped back, “You don’t wash your hands when you piss on the battlefield, you dirty heathen!”

“Where the hell do _you_ wash your hands when you take a piss on the battlefield?!” the Sniper raised his voice.

Heavy sighed, “Is no use. Sniper, you have tiny bladder.”

The Spy glared back at the Sniper, “I keep hygienic products on my person and keep note of running water.”

“You keep soap on you?” the Scout asked, “Even when you’re fighting?”

“I keep a wash kit available near spigots with running water access,” the Spy admitted, keeping his head held high.

“While I appreciate that _one_ of you has the good sense to be so hygienic,” Medic sighed, “I have more news.”

“What is it then?” the Spy asked.

“In order to get the infirmary stocked and repaired, arrangements were made with the Administrator,” Medic explained, “This will be cutting into my time working with you off the battlefield.”

The others were silently exchanging questioning looks. They did not seem to understand what this meant. Medic sighed again as he realized that he would have to explain further.

“I have new patients to attend to. When we are in battle, I am your coworker. But off those hours, treat my time as I am working a separate job,” Medic explained, “Because that is what it is. The infirmary will still be open for access to bandages and medication as needed. I will do what I can for emergencies, of course. Do be aware that I will have very little time to spare when we are not on the battlefield.”

“So…what now?” the Demoman asked.

Medic huffed, “Starting today…don’t expect that I’ll have any time to dispense at your leisure.”

“Doc?” Sniper called his attention, “Are you saying you don’t have time to fix my hand?”

“I’ll make time to fix your hand,” he gestured to the double doors, “It’s an emergency. And because my time is being cut down starting today, I suggest anybody else who has a bone related wrap-able injury heads inside so we can wrap this up faster.”


	26. Stables

When Medic returned to the stables, he found a clipboard. He had overlooked it before, because whoever arranged the animals had decided to discard it onto the floor thoughtlessly. He huffed as he read over the contents. There were pictures of the animals, dated as “before transport” and “after transport” as if for insurance reasons.

He looked over the information, marveling at what he had been given. His heart hurt when he read the notes about the horse’s injury. He walked to the mare’s stall and looked at her. Looking at her actual body he could see the stitched gash in her haunches. It was longer than his forearm and made him wince. The poor girl must have been in so much pain. He followed the contents’ instructions in not only feeding her from a bin of concentrated feed, but also mixing a mash with some pain killer that would aide her in being comfortable.

When he approached the goat, the only information that really existed was that she was a goat. Whoever wrote it also believed she was either possessed or owned a demon’s vocal cords. He heard her bleat at him and nodded. She indeed sounded like a devil, but he no less felt obligated to give her the food she wanted.

When he approached the donkey’s stall, he pulled up her notes and felt another pang. This girl was old, a brood jenny who had been through the ringer. According to the handlers who transported her, she was apparently as stubborn as she was old. It was the veterinarian notes that got to him, as she had been treated for some illness and was on a recurring medical care plan for her chronic leg pains. As if her condition was not bad enough, he could see the shaved and stitched area of her shoulder and neck already. Two separate wounds, one a slice and the other a gunshot wound. He gave her a similar treatment as the horse, but he stepped inside to bring the food closer to her.

She turned her head to look at him, almost in surprise. He set down the bucket and she lowered her head to it. She did not take anything at first, raising her head to touch his arm with her nose, before she lowered her head again to eat the mash.

“That’s right, take your medicine, old girl,” he spoke softly as he gently rubbed her side.

When he closed up the donkey’s stall, he approached the squirrel cage with the clipboard in hand. The squirrel had a lot more scientific information attached to her files. She was a common red squirrel, but she was not expected to survive long. An additional page revealed some biological complications with the offspring. “Huh,” he pondered aloud as he read over the formal jargon. It was a lot to write out just to say they impregnated an average squirrel with a modified offspring that would be bigger than she could handle.

He looked at the squirrel, who was sitting atop her nest box. She was looking around, active and wary of his presence. He gave her a nod, “Don’t worry. We’ll overcome that problem when we get to it.”

He proceeded to follow the instructions attached to feed her. It was a bit more difficult than the others, since she was fast and smart enough to understand which way was out of her cage. Every attempt to get in and out of the cage was an art in slipping in without letting the small animal find a way to pass his feet.

When he finished taking care of her food he sighed and brushed his hands on his pants. He was almost done. Now he could tackle another animal’s needs. Though he was not sure where to start.

He turned the papers over on the clipboard, searching for information. It brought him to a report about an animal’s amputation. He looked over the information and peered into the cheetah’s stall. She was laying down but noticed him the moment his face appeared in the window. He looked over her legs and found that one of her hind legs ended at the hock. She was crippled and would never be able to run herself to any kind of freedom, let alone be able to hunt for herself.

With his heart aching for his charge, he opened the box with her supplies in it. He carefully opened the top of the door to drop the food into a feed bin. The eager cat hopped up and hobbled over to the food. He watched her for a moment before turning away. He did not know much about big cats, but he wondered if a cheetah was the type of animal that preferred the solo lifestyle. Then again, he had not questioned the herd animals being left alone. Though he thought their conditions could be resolved by bringing them together in some way. He was not sure he could let this helpless cheetah be around a big dangerous bear.

He swallowed as he locked the cheetah’s door. He would have to contend with the scariest of the carnivores in his care last. He would not contend with her now. He would deal with the smaller ones and work his way up. He assured himself that he would have more courage when he reached the point of facing the bear.

When he reached the wolf-looking creature’s pen, the one with no top door, he was reading the clipboard. When he realized that he could see her face in the edge of his vision, peering over the door, he yelled and jumped back. She did not do anything, just staring at him for a long time, unblinking.

“Take it easy,” he spoke hesitantly, hoping that being calmer would keep her settle.

He turned the pages on his clipboard, looking for her information. He found her picture and took a moment to try and sound out the name of her genus. “Aardwolf?” As he read more of the contents, he began to feel utterly stupid. This was not even a wolf or a dangerous carnivore.

He opened her food box to find that he was meant to somehow feed her termites. The crawling, filthy disgusting creatures were crawling over each other endlessly. If they got out of the stables, they would infest the infirmary. Still, she needed food, so he did his best to bring her the termites.

She lapped eagerly at the filthy little insects. Medic did his best to prop her feeder in a useable way and get out of there before some bugs hitch hiked onto his person. He took a breath and looked at his clipboard. This would be his routine twice daily for the foreseeable future.

He took a deep breath, assuring himself that it was worth it. Still, as he approached the bear’s enclosure, a voice told him that this was why the Administrator was willing to accept his conditions. There was no way a rational person would have agreed to this. He had not even taken the forethought of finding out what kinds of animals and how many there would be.

The bear was awake now. She was up and moving around. She was sniffing the ground when she noticed him. She looked up, tilting her head to study him.

He swallowed his fear as he reread the contents of the clipboard. Medically speaking, she was recovering from an injury on her belly, so unless she reared he could not see it. As for the rest, it was just little notes about her being “cute” and “easy to handle.”

“Liars,” he huffed. Surely they were referring to one of the other animals.

He pulled open a whole cupboard set aside for her food. He pulled out the meat and opened the top of her door. She opened her mouth, like an eager smile, as she saw him heave the meat over the door to her. She took it with gleet and tore into it happily. He closed the door, glad that it was that easy to feed her, but he was not sure about her medical care. Eventually he would have to check her stitches and make sure there was no infection. Maybe tomorrow. That would be a worry for tomorrow.

When he arrived in the kitchen, he realized that it was dark outside. The kitchen was still lit up, as a couple of men inside were talking. He ignored their presence at the table, hoping to find something of relative edibility for human consumption.

His stomach growled as he caught the smells of what had been cooked earlier. Nobody thought about him or what he was supposed to eat though, so nothing cooked was left. At least he did manage to find sandwich supplies with which to make a suitable plate of food.

“Doc?” a voice called from the table.

“Hmm?” he did not bother to look as he busied himself with making a sandwich.

“You are up pretty late?” he realized that the Engineer was once again the one questioning him about his late dinnertime.

“Yes, well I have been busy,” Medic replied, trying to keep his focus on his sandwich making. The others were not so important that he should forego his focus on feeding himself.

“I took a peek at the infirmary,” the Engineer said, “It looks good. Everything stocked like you’d hoped?”

“Well, I haven’t had much time to check everything, but most of it seems to be properly stocked,” Medic replied, his mind wandering back to the infirmary. After the care of his human patients, he had spent all his time caring for his animal patients.

“Seems like everything is back on track,” the Engineer added.

Medic sighed and shook his head as he finished putting together his sandwiches. He put the ingredients away hurriedly so he could get to eating. The sooner he ate, the sooner he could be in bed.

“Uh, doc?” this time the Sniper’s voice caught his attention.

“What?” he looked at the man who was peering at him with a furrowed brow.

“What’s that?” the man gestured to Medic, then to his own shoulder.

“What’s what?” Medic looked to his shoulder to see some insects crawling around.

Unable to verbalize anything, his hands went to trying to brush away the bugs. In his panic he did not realize until too late that he had thrown his entire plate of sandwiches onto the floor. Once the threat of the bugs was squashed out of existence, he looked around.

The Engineer, the Sniper and the Heavy were all staring at him. They did not look particularly surprised or bewildered. They did not look angry or amused either. They simply stared with unblinking eyes.

Embarrassed, he began picking up what was left of his sandwiches, trying to think of how the termites could have gotten onto his coat. He tried not to make his discontent be apparent, but he was not sure there was anything he could do about it. What man would not be irritated after his food fell on the floor whilst he tried to brush away insects that ultimately would not hurt him?

“You dealing with ants in the infirmary, doc?” the Sniper asked.

“We just got it rebuilt,” Engineer chimed in, “We ought to be careful.”

“Just some bugs,” Medic muttered as he returned to the counter.

The following day was a long and arduous battle. Medic had to wake early to tend to the animals. After having done it once, he was glad to be able to repeat the process with the same success. Though the battle itself was brutal, and the RED team was relentless.

As the announcement of their failure rang over the speakers, he hid under the floor boards of a weary old building. He listened to footsteps going by as he tried to cover the sound of his breathing. His breath caught when feet shifted to kneel onto the ground.

The RED Medic’s face appeared, smiling at him, “I _saw_ you climb under here!”

“Yes, that would be to not get caught,” he spoke quietly, wishing this man would go away.

“Ah, don’t worry,” the RED glanced around before looking back at him, “I’ve arranged your safety.”

“No offense,” the BLU Medic sighed, “But while I understand you’re genuinely interested in helping, I don’t want your help. You can leave me alone so I don’t get caught by your teammates, please.”

“That’s just it,” the RED Medic insisted.

“What’s it?” he asked.

“I told my coworkers to leave you alone when you’re not in a charge,” the RED informed him.

“What? Why? What even- I don’t want your help!” the BLU declared.

“Well, every time you get caught, you get sent back to respawn. I thought this must be problematic for having the fetus develop. Even if it survives, I can’t imagine it’s progressing in growth. So I told them that we have a gentleman’s agreement, you and I,” the RED explained.

“Why? Why would you tell them that?!” the BLU felt the flames of fury rise up and he almost forgot that he was not armed to get into a fight with the RED.

“I told them you and I made arrangements but I needed you to be sent to respawn as little as possible,” the RED explained, “They are actually quite understanding about the situation.”

“So you took credit for my work?” the BLU scoffed.

“No, I didn’t!” the RED protested, before a horrified look crossed his face, “Oh, I did. Didn’t I? I’m sorry. That was unintentional but necessary.”

The BLU huffed a sigh, “Well, just leave me alone.”

“But why?” the RED protested, “I’ve assured your safety. Even if one of my teammates come by, they’ll leave you alone. You already know I’m not going to harm you.”

The BLU sighed, “I just want to be alone.”

The RED lost his smile, looking almost hurt. He moved away from the edge of the boards, “O…okay then.”

The RED rose to his feet and without another word, he walked away. The BLU listened as his footsteps left. He breathed carefully, counting down from ten as he wished away the danger that he was sure was seeking him.


	27. Innocents on Site

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Canon-typical violence against animals

The raging battlements were loud with claps of thunderous gunfire. The roaring of miniguns and the pops of rifles roared over voices. Screams and cries of painful deaths died out in the raucous noise.

Medic raised his head just in time to see somebody crossing overhead. He raised his crossbow, expecting to shoot down an unwary Sniper. With the sun in his eyes, he realized he might be about to shoot a teammate. He shielded his eyes and squinted up at the figure.

His blood ran cold as he spotted the back of a woman. A mess of hair fell down her back, reaching two thirds of the way down her short dress. From this angle he could tell that she was wearing very high heels and had holes in her stockings that went so far up her legs he did not mean to see.

He gasped for air as he winced away from the view, “You there!”

The woman turned around with a dramatic gasp. Her primped hair tossed around as she spun. Her body moved unevenly, as if unused to the height or perhaps unused to her boots. She looked down at him with her arms clasped close to her front. He could barely make out her face, but he could see distinct black paint dripping down her cheeks.

“Come down from there!” he called up to her, “You shouldn’t be here!”

“I-I don’t know where I am!” the woman called back to him. She placed her hands on the railing to peer down at him. “I’m lost!”

“You shouldn’t be here!” he tried to shield his eyes from seeing up the unsightly angle of her skirt, “Come down from there!”

“I- Grandpa?” her previously terrified tone took on one of frightened curiosity.

He shook his head as he beckoned to her, “Go through that doorway and down the stairs!” He turned and headed through the entrance to the building.

She came clomping down the stairs with unsteady steps. Her boots put her at a disadvantage. Every step was wobbly and poorly done. She could fall over at any moment.

He was shocked when he could finally see her in the dimly lit building without blinding light. Cherry had her hair in a primped mess. Her eyes held dark circles of make up that now dripped down in tear streaks. Her once determined posture was unsure as she tried to curl in on herself, holding her hands to her chest.

She gasped upon meeting up with him, “It _is_ you! Grandpa!”

“I am not your grandfather!” he gave her a once over, “What are you doing here? And what are you wearing? Are you trying to get killed?”

“No!” she stepped closer to him, “I-I was…I…I fell asleep and then…it was dark and…I don’t remember his name. He was just a client. I swear I didn’t take any drugs or anything. I just drank too much that night and fell asleep. I woke up here.”

“You woke up here? Where exactly did you wake u-” he was cut off by a sharp pain in his back. He let out a cry as the familiarity of a blade in his spine sent his mind spinning.

“Apologies,” the RED Spy said, drawing the blade from his back.

Oh no, Medic thought. He could not do anything though. There was nothing he could do or say as he laid on the floor, slowly losing consciousness. He could not warn Cherry or tell her how to get out of this situation. He only hoped she had the good sense not to trust the RED Spy after seeing him stab somebody.

When he opened his eyes in respawn, he set his mind on saving Cherry. He would get her out of this mess if it was the last thing he did. He picked his feet up high and charged off in the direction that he had last left her. If she ran anywhere, he would have to start there first.

He was surprised to find Cherry still there. The RED Spy was also still there. He was talking to her, offering a hand to her. He looked like he was trying to soothe a wild animal, attempting to convince it to trust him. Medic knew better than to trust, and so he charged in with his saw bared.

He struggled with the Spy for a moment. It took a very short time to cut into the man’s ribs with the saw. It was made for cutting bones, so it was not all that inefficient at the cutting part. It was the part where the Spy grabbed his wrists and tried to hold him back that made this a struggled.

“G-grandpa?” Cherry blinked up at him, then looked at the spot where he must have died. His body was no longer there, having been collected by respawn. “But you…I saw you! You died!” she exclaimed breathily.

“Yes,” he sighed, “Yes, Cherry. You saw me die. Just as I die every day. This is part of my job. I die while trying to keep men alive.”

“But you’re…right there!” she pointed at him.

It was then that he noticed that fresh tears were streaking down her face. He took a step towards her and offered his hand. His other hand stowed away the saw for later.

“I’m alive. I’m real,” he assured her, “Look. See?”

She touched his hand, looking quite shocked to find that he was real. He squeezed her hand as he started on his way. The sooner they moved out of here, the sooner she would be out of harm’s way.

Unfortunately, when they exited the building, they came face to face with REDs. The first man he ran into was the RED Engineer. Behind him was the RED Heavy. Both of them hesitated, likely because they saw the woman with him.

“Take your hands off that girl,” the RED Engineer cocked his gun and aimed for Medic.

Medic put himself between the two REDs and Cherry, “Put your weapons down! There’s a civilian on site!”

“We’re aware of that,” the RED Engineer’s calculating gaze could be felt through his goggles.

“Move away from killer doctor, little girl,” the Heavy gestured to Cherry, trying to goad her away from Medic.

“G- uh…” Cherry grabbed onto Medic’s arm, “What do we do?” Her voice was a faint squeak of desperation.

“Stay calm,” he whispered to her, “You’ll be alright.”

“Incoming!” the RED Soldier came rocket jumping into the vicinity.

Aware that Cherry could take injuries she was not prepared to handle, Medic scooped her up and rushed back into the building. He could hear the voice of the RED Scout not far away. Apparently, all of the RED team was coming in to find out what was going on.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” he set Cherry on her feet, “This is bad.”

“I can tell, gramps! Gramps…what do we do?” she gasped tearfully.

Medic glanced over his shoulder to see that the RED Engineer was following them inside. He grabbed his crossbow, aimed and fired at the man. Not wanting to be hit, the Engineer dodged out of the way, escaping from the building.

“Up the stairs! Go go go!” he hurried her up the steps. He hurried her up the steps as quickly as possible. She stumbled, scrambling up the stairs with her obnoxiously high heels.

“Wait! I can’t move that fast! Ow!” her ankle audibly popped as her leg twisted.

Medic picked her up, not letting her fall with the twist of her ankle. He brought her to the top of the stairs and sat her on the ledge where a medkit sat. He grabbed the kit and quickly began handling her ankle. He decided to remove her shoes, discarding of them hurriedly as he wrapped her injured ankle.

“My boots!” she cried out.

“You don’t need them,” he insisted, “You need to get more efficient footwear. Forget high heels. Get boots with sturdier heels.”

“But those are expensive,” she pleaded, “Well, congratulations. The expensive boots sprained your ankle.”

“Oh thank God!” she exclaimed, “I thought it was broken!”

His ear was caught by the footsteps coming up the stairs. He scooped Cherry up, forcing her to her feet. “Move! Move!” he put her arm over his shoulders as he led her across the overpass. He led her down the stairs on the other side, leading her to the building that had a window with no glass. He leaped out the window and helped her out this way. He got her to her feet again and hurried with her towards the first exit he could think of.

“There! Over there!” he heard a voice shout.

“Hurry!” Medic raised his voice as he hurried Cherry to come with him.

He heard the pop a moment before he felt the bullet in the back of his head. The world began to ring loudly in his head. He lost balance and then lost all capacity. The last thing he could think of was to shout at Cherry to run faster, but he could do nothing.

He opened his eyes in respawn and growled in frustration. He charged out of respawn, heading straight for where Cherry was left. A hand grabbed his shoulder, pulling him to a halt. He looked to his teammate with surprise and shock.

“Doctor!” the Heavy yelled, almost in his face.

“What! Unhand me!” Medic wrenched himself out of the bigger man’s grip.

“What is happening?” the man demanded, gesturing in the direction that Medic had been heading.

“Not now!” Medic gestured for the man to leave him alone. He turned and began running again. He could already see a gathering of BLU and RED mercenaries. The two colors were divided, sticking to separate sides of a situation.

“The hell do you mean?” he heard the BLU Demoman demand, “Nobody here would smuggle a damn woman!”

“A civilian does not belong on site! Leave it to a RED to create the chaos!” the BLU Soldier agreed with his teammate.

“You BLUs are the careless ones around here!” the RED Engineer protested, folding his arms over his chest, “You lot ruined your own infirmary. You might as well destroy half your base!”

Medic ignored the banter as he approached Cherry. The girl was crying as she sat on the ground. She was looking between each of the men in confusion. He remained silent as he took her by the arm and lifted her to her feet. He ignored the looks he got as the other men around them fell silent.

He pulled Cherry’s arm over his shoulders as she got her feet under herself. He waited for her to become balanced before starting towards the exit. Nobody said anything more. They just stared, watching as he drew Cherry away from the battlement.

Cherry followed him dutifully out of the battlements and to his car. He helped her into the passenger seat, making sure her bare feet ended up on the car mat. He closed the door and hurried around the front of the car. Once he was in the driver’s seat, he started up the engine and pulled away from the base.

He took deep careful breaths as he left the base behind. He could see it disappearing into the distance through his rear-view mirrors. He breathed carefully as he turned his attention to the road ahead, leading to the closer of the two nearby towns.

He could hear Cherry breathing in the passenger seat. He said nothing. She said nothing. They just remained in silence.

He relaxed back in his seat, thinking over what was going on. He was not sure what the backlash would be for leaving the fight. He figured the RED Medic would likely be pulled off of the battlements to even things out. His team might give him flack for this, but he would have to just put up with it.

At least he had the time driving to cool off. Normally, he would have to just keep going in a fight. This was a weird opportunity to relax and take some time for himself.

He pulled up to Cherry’s house, stopping out front. He put the vehicle in park, but did not bother to pull into a parking space. He was not going to be here long anyways.

“I…” Cherry finally spoke.

“Can you walk?” he asked.

“Y-yes,” she replied hesitantly, “But I wanted to ask…”

He sighed and leaned back in his seat, “About what?”

“What happened back there…it…I…” she could not seem to form a full sentence.

“My work is complicated,” he informed her, “It’s dangerous. You’re a civilian, so you’re not supposed to be there. It’s very classified, hush hush type of work.”

“Uh…oh…” she spoke hesitantly.

“Listen, Cherry,” he licked his lips, “I have to get back to work and clean this up. But I need you to promise me something.”

“W-what’s that?” she asked.

“I need you to promise that you will not speak of this,” he instructed her.

“O-okay,” she stammered.

“Don’t talk to Sapphire or Dolly or Lolly about this. Nobody is to know what you’ve seen,” he told her firmly.

“I-I…Y-you…Are you going to be in trouble?” she asked in a squeak.

“I don’t know yet,” he sighed again, “Go inside and don’t talk about what happened.”

“I-I have more questions!” she pressed.

“I don’t have time,” he raised a hand, “Hop out so I can go. We’ll talk later.”

She gave him a disappointed look, “Promise?”

He nodded, “I promise.”

With a heavy sigh, Cherry opened the passenger side door to climb out. She moved carefully on her feet. She leaned on the car as she closed it and moved around it. He watched as she limped to the door, moving very slowly to the front door. As soon as it flung open, Dolly rushed out to grab onto Cherry, looking very frantic.

Seeing that Cherry was safely home, he put the vehicle into drive again. He was done here so he could head back to work. He still had to find out what he was going back to.

When Medic pulled in at the base’s parking lot, he heard nothing but silence. The battlements were cold with stillness. Nobody seemed to be stirring. He swallowed, worried about what consequences would come. He had no idea what he was going to say, but he might as well start forming an explanation about why he had left the battlements. Surely they knew and understood, but knowing his team they would be angry with him anyways.

The entire BLU base was silent as well. He looked around, listening for signs of life. If they were not fighting, then they had to be here somewhere. He wondered if they were all still out on the battlements. Maybe they were still verbally arguing with the REDs.

He decided that he would take this opportunity to take some respite. He headed for the infirmary. He had some medicine in mind for the growing wave of nausea that was hitting him. He felt more than a little uneasy.

When he stepped into the infirmary, he stared in shock. Mercenaries were swinging axes and holding up shotguns as they fought off an onslaught of frightened animals. The bear was loose and she was wrestling with them. The cheetah was stretched between two men, fighting with tooth and claw as the two men tried to axe her. The horse was screaming, pacing and snorting as she tried to stay away from the chaos. The donkey was not even on her feet anymore, having been downed.

He barely had a chance to react as something leaped at him. His brain suddenly registered that a squirrel had landed on his shoulder and he snatched her up. Immediately, he squirmed and tried to escape, as he tried to gently hold her.

“STOP!” he shouted over the noise.

A few men stopped to look at him. But because the animals would not stop, the Heavy was still wrestling with the bear. Desperate, the bear struggled to take down her opponent, but the Heavy caught onto a weakness. Not bothering to hold back, the Heavy dipped down to strike at the now-apparent stitching on her belly.

“STOP!” Medic tucked the squirrel into a pocket as he ran towards the Heavy. He pulled at the man, dragging him away as the bear collapsed in a heap on the floor. He quickly returned to her, listening to her ragged tired breath.

“Doc, these animals broke into your infirmary,” the Scout said, pointing to the cheetah that was clawing at the Engineer’s arm. The Texan winced, but refrained from further harming the cat.

“Let. Go. Of. That. Animal,” Medic growled.

The Engineer was the only one who could not feasibly let go. The others let go of the other animals. He looked around at the animals, who either remained injured on the floor or limped into a corner to hide. The aardwolf limped away from the demoman to hide behind Medic’s desk.

“Doc, do you know where these animals came from?” the Engineer asked.

“Administrator,” he pointed to the door to the stables.

“What?” the Engineer blinked at him.

“Who the hell let these animals out?” Medic demanded.

There was silence as they glanced at each other. Somebody had to have opened the pens. Added that none of them were quickly speaking up to defend themselves made him suspicious. They were all the types of people to immediately speak up when they were or were not guilty.

“Who the hell let them out?!” he raised his voice.

Silence continued. There were exchanged looks, but nobody said anything. They just did not have anything to say.

“You…fucking…bastards,” Medic breathed.

All of this just to stock the infirmary. So what would come of losing the projects the Administrator was desperate for him to take care of? He was not sure. He did not want to know.

“Hey! You’re the one with a pest problem in here!” the Scout barked, pointing at the floor.

Medic glanced at the floor to see that there were termites scattered here and there. He walked to the doors leading into the stables and found chaos. The feed bins had been torn apart and the pens were destroyed. The only animal not out of her pen was the goat, who looked at him and let out a demonic bleat.

He sighed, about to speak up about the goat’s safety when a shot blasted through the animal’s head. He stared in shock. He turned slowly to look at the Soldier holding the shotgun. He pumped the gun to let out an empty shell.

“That thing isn’t normal,” the Soldier nodded at the dead goat, “That’s a goddamn demon.”

“Yea…that…was weird,” the Scout agreed.

“YOU IDIOTS! THOSE ARE THE ADMINISTRATOR’S ANIMALS!” the Medic lost control of his vocal volume.

“What?” the Heavy looked at him.

“YOU IDIOTS!” Medic roared, “You- this- I-”

He was struggling to breathe as he walked around the infirmary. The donkey was down, but she was still breathing. The mare was still snorting, but she stayed in a corner, where she was farthest from the dangers. She looked ready to kick at anybody who came close to her. The aardwolf seemed to still be hiding for now, and he figured he would be at a loss trying to pull her out until he was better prepared to deal with her injuries.

“Doc, what in God’s name made you think it would be a good idea to keep a bunch of animals in here?” the Engineer asked.

Medic walked over and dragged the cheetah away from him. She turned around to bite into his arm. He ignored the pain, carrying her to her pen. To his dismay, her pen was destroyed. He set her down on her bed, where she remained. He returned to the infirmary, trying to wrap his brain around what to do.

“Doc?” the Engineer stepped in front of him to confront him. He had his brow drawn in with a stern look.

“The Administrator built an entire wing to house _her_ projects,” the Medic growled, slowly raising his voice, “I PUT THE WORK IN FOR THESE DAMN ANIMALS SO THIS DAMN INFIRMARY WOULD BE RESTOCKED!”

“Well, good job genius!” the Engineer scorned him, “The whole damn infirmary is destroyed. Now what you going to do?”

Medic looked around at the faces looking back at him. The only mercenary that he knew was not here was Pyro. He had no idea where the man was, but he was glad to see at least one person had not taken to maiming these creatures.

“Get out,” Medic hissed.

“Come again?” Engineer frowned at him.

“All of you. GET OUT!” Medic pointed to the doors.

“Uh…doc,” the Scout pointed to the Demoman, “Demo’s missing a leg. I also…kind of…need some help.” Scout waved an injured arm in the air.”

“Hate it or not, doc,” the Engineer dragged his attention back to his snarling face, “You have a job to do. And because of your animals, the rest of us need medical care.” The Engineer raised his hand to show the injuries from the cheetah’s claws and teeth.

“Fine,” Medic growled, pushing a hand through his hair. He looked over the medical wing and the chaos these men had created.

It was difficult to breathe. He was struggling to remain calm. Already, he was trying to figure out the calculations of what the Administrator would demand of him as punishment for losing such expensive animals. On top of the losses he could see were the losses he could not determine, which were the projects they were pregnant with.

“One of you first. The rest of you go to the waiting room,” Medic gestured to the door again.

“But doc we only got injuries to deal with,” Scout insisted.

“NOW!” Medic pointed again to the door.

As the team began to shuffle out into the waiting area, he made his way to the desk. He picked up the phone, the sinking dread filling his belly. He took a deep breath as he dialed a number. He heard the doors swing open and a pair of boots stomp in.

“Doctor?” the Sniper hobbled in, making his way towards the examination table, “I’ll cooperate with everything, just please help me out.”

“Hold on,” Medic replied as he listened to the dial tone.

“Doc, please,” Sniper begged, “Your bear tore my entrails.”

Medic sighed and put the phone back on the receiver. He gestured for Sniper to follow him to the beds. He turned on the medigun overhead, while the Sniper climbed onto the bed. Sniper was mostly silent, liquid filling his eyes.

“It hurts,” Sniper groaned.

Medic strolled across the infirmary for some more supplies. He brought back the anesthetic, placing a mask over the Sniper’s face. He held it there as he watched the man drift off to sleep. With him unconscious, he could make that phone call.

He hurried back to his desk and redialed the number. He listened anxiously to the dial tone, unsure of what he should say. When the woman’s familiar voice croaked over the line, his nerves were held taut. He struggled not to hold his breath.

“This had better be good,” the woman croaked.

“I have…bad news,” he swallowed.

“Do not tell me there was an incident,” the Administrator growled, “Do not tell me that you’ve only just received the animals and you’ve already lost them.”

“Well,” he cleared his throat, “Some of them are dead.”

The woman on the other end of the line sighed with frustration. It was a long exhale that sounded like it was paired in smoke.

He glanced over at the unconscious Sniper. He would have to deal with his entrails eventually. Then of course he would have to deal with the dead and injured animals. He was not sure what he would do about all of the dead animals, but he was sure the other mercenaries would not actually help him.

“I do have some…something in mind,” Medic stared at the Sniper as thoughts converged.

“I’m listening,” the Administrator croaked, “Enlighten me with your supposed brilliance, Dr. Raasch.”

He swallowed again as he sat down in his chair, “Well, your interest is particularly in the offspring, isn’t that right?”

“That’s right,” the Administrator let out a breath like she was smoking a cigarette, “We laid out half a billion dollars into the genetic project. Another two hundred million into the animals used for this project. More than half of the original animals were lost in the initial incident. Apparently mercenaries cannot help but create chaos with animals around.”

Medic cleared his throat, “Well, if you are willing to work with me on…erm…let’s say vacation time…for…my assistants.”

“Vacation time?” he heard her chair creak as her tone became sharp, “You really think you have anything to gamble with after the infirmary renovation?”

“The destruction of which was a fault of the builders,” Medic argued.

“I’m not arguing semantics with you,” the Administrator growled.

“Hear me out,” Medic pleaded, “I can salvage every single animal…offspring.”

“I’m listening,” she sighed heavily.

He swallowed, rubbing his fingers together. He was not sure how to explain how this would work without telling her about his project. It was not an average project that he could blab about openly. Though, the more he thought about it, the more he realized that the concept was a bit wretched.

“We can discuss semantics and specifics at a later time, but if you’re willing to promise off time for the BLU team, then I can promise you these projects’ vitality,” he bluffed. He had no idea if the initial team made these offspring viable in the first place.

“Really?” she sounded intrigued as her chair creaked, “You can promise me that?”

“The technical vacation time would be a transfer of…well…the team efforts going towards the rescue of these animals. It will take more work than one man can do.”

“And you have a method to handle this?” the Administrator asked.

“Of course I do,” Medic said firmly, “So give me the go ahead and I’ll hang up and get to work on it now.”

“Fine,” the Administrator let out a long breath, “Get me those animals and you get leave from battle.”

“Deal,” Medic could not refrain from grinning.

“And can you provide me with evidence?” the Administrator inquired, “I need something to entice investors who will be paying for all of that…_vacation time_.”

“Send me an MRI machine and you’ll get the soonest imagery of your projects,” he assured her.

“Fine,” she replied, “Don’t fail me.” The line clicked and the tone of an empty line filled his ear.

He set the phone down and rose to his feet. He stretched, taking a deep breath. He had the go ahead from the Administrator to handle the projects and the time to work with them. Now all he had to do was to assure the viability of the fetuses.

He strode to the doors and pulled them open. The mercenaries were all surprisingly quiet as they waited to be called in. They looked so exhausted for a troop of men who had ended work early. He was still unsure of what was meant to come of that. Either way, they were going to help him fix this. They abused the animals and had crossed Medic for the very last time.


	28. Rectify the Mess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: MPREG

The store was cool and crisp from the air conditioning. The daily desert heat was left behind as Medic stepped through the automatic doors into the capitalistic oasis. His eyes scanned an assortment of advertisements that drew the eye to a variety of goods, but ultimately he ignored them in passing.

He made his way past aisles of sugary sweets and useless make up to the pharmaceuticals. The pharmacy counter itself was open. A couple of pharmacists busied themselves with filling prescription medication, presumably for some other customers. It was a unique sight for Medic, as this counter seemed to be closed more often than not. He could only imagine how this pharmacy stayed in business if they did not keep up with the actual pharmacy’s hours.

“Hi grandpa!” a little voice startled him.

Medic turned to see Lollypop standing nearby with Sapphire next to her. Sapphire looked as disinterested as she normally was. She even buried her nose in a device with a bright screen.

“Hallo,” he waved in greeting. He really hoped this would not be a more serious confrontation, as he could not handle much right now.

“What brings you here?” Sapphire asked.

He opened his mouth to speak before clicking it shut. He could not simply tell them he was dealing with morning sickness. It would be strange to explain to them what he was dealing with. He did not have any energy to come up with any alternative explanation otherwise.

“Well, I’ve been feeling nauseated,” he explained.

“Oh no!” Lollypop squeaked.

“Still?” Sapphire sounded uncharacteristically concerned as she reached out to press a hand to his forehead.

“There is no illness,” he assured them, “But it persists.”

“Well, let’s find some medicine for that,” Lolly began searching the shelves he was about to peruse.

He joined her, scanning the labels and their effects. He vaguely looked over the ones not intended for pregnant people. He decided to slip something for morning sickness into a basket or something while they were not looking.

“How did you know I was nauseated before?” he inquired.

“Cherry told us what happened,” Lolly answered.

“Ah,” he stared at a little bottle of pills in his hands, pretending to read it. He thought back on the previous day’s events and how it came to pass. He wondered how things would have gone if Cherry had not been there. Then again, perhaps if he had not been the one to pull her off the battlefield, he wondered if somebody else would have gone in his place, leaving him to tend to the animals.

_Medic opened the doors and looked upon the tired men waiting for him. Unlike most days, they were quiet and kept to themselves. They were pathetic looking, for a bunch who had ended work early to harass his charges._

_“Who is first?” he announced, calling their gazes to him._

_The Engineer rose slowly to his feet, cradling his injured hand to his chest. He tried to peer past Medic into the infirmary. Still, he toddled towards the doors._

_“Where’s Sniper?” the man inquired._

_“Asleep,” Medic answered, “He will require surgical repair.”_

_The Engineer grunted in acceptance of this answer. He continued past Medic into the infirmary. He tiredly past Medic and made his way towards the examination table._

_“I’m guessing your arm is all that is wrong?” Medic inquired as he followed him to the table._

_“Not all,” Engineer answered, “That bear got a bite into my side.”_

_“You’re not going to put up a fight about getting out of your overalls, are you?” Medic inquired._

_“No, sir,” Engineer sounded strangely dejected as he slowly peeled off his shirt._

_Medic turned to his anesthetic equipment. There was plenty to go around since the infirmary was restocked. He just had to grab what was not being used on the Sniper. He dared not let the inquisitively sharp man see what he was doing though. He snuck around behind the Engineer and made use of the duration of pulling his shirt over his head._

_As the Engineer was discarding his shirt, he reached around to press the mask over his face. Frightened, the Engineer gasped. His hand went up to the mask as Medic pulled the strap over his head. He immediately tried to reach for the strap, attempting to take it off._

_“Just sleep,” Medic said softly._

_As the Engineer fell, Medic reached out to catch him. He swallowed his regret and dragged the man across the room. He had not considered the irritation of dragging him along with no shirt. Then again, it was for the best that the overalls were falling down off his front, leaving his belly exposed, with no shirts to block access._

_He struggled to lift the stout man onto a bed. He straightened out the anesthetic, creating an illusion of medical care. He pulled away the helmet, setting it aside so there would be no injury to his head or neck while he was laying down._

_“Sweet dreams,” he said a bit spitefully. He recollected every time he had been sent through respawn, and he had no doubt that the Engineer may have been involved at least once._

_He approached the doors and pushed them open, “Next?”_

_All eyes looked to him. The Scout spoke up hesitantly, “Uh…where’s the Engie?”_

_“Everybody is getting intense treatment,” Medic informed them, “Do not expect others to leave before your appointment. Now, next person?”_

_There was a moment of hesitation. A few men exchanged glances as they silently debated whether to go next or let others choose to go next. Unsurprisingly, the Soldier hopped onto his feet and then fell face first to the floor._

_“Soldier?” Medic was surprised by the man’s fall._

_“I’m fine,” Soldier scrambled to his feet._

_“What on- Where are you injured?” Medic scanned the man for any apparent injuries to his legs._

_“It hurts when I do this!” the Soldier pushed back his helmet and jabbed a finger against his apparently bruised forehead._

_“Blunt force trauma,” Medic nodded, “Come inside.”_

_Soldier obediently followed him into the infirmary. Unlike the Engineer, he did not gravitate towards the examination table. Instead, he followed Medic to the beds. At least the man’s gullibility was reliable._

_“Lie down here,” Medic instructed, “We will begin with some relaxing sleep.”_

_“Sleep is for the weak,” Soldier said, as Medic pulled the mask over his face. Since the man knew nothing about anesthetic, he did not put up a fight as his head fell back on the pillow to sleep._

_“That’s right,” Medic pulled his helmet off his head, “Just get some rest now.”_

_He turned and proceeded to the door. The other mercenaries did not bother to look up. They just quietly waited while the Heavy Weapons Guy rose to his feet to enter the infirmary. Medic moved out of his way, before proceeding towards the beds._

_“Please come lay down over here,” Medic beckoned to him._

_The big man had a good look at the other beds, before looking at the Medic. Medic swallowed his nerves, though the anxiety would not be quelled. The big man was not great with English and preferred brawn, but that did not mean he had no keen senses to pick up on something odd going on. He was not the kind of man that would be easy to sneak around either._

_“Doctor?” the man asked, eyeing him thoughtfully._

_“Yes?” he feigned innocence as hard as he could._

_“Why are teammates asleep on beds?” he inquired._

_Medic took a slow deep breath as he prepared his explanation, “Well, the team’s injuries are quite severe. It would be more efficient for me to work if everybody is just laid out here. Also, it’ll be less time spent in pain. Is it not? You won’t remember the time and you won’t remember a thing.” He held his breath, hoping this man would not question it further._

_“Is fair,” Heavy pulled his boots off to lay down on the bed. He leaned back onto the pillow and even put a hand over the mask as Medic pulled the strap over his head. “Thank you, doctor,” the man’s words faded off on his tongue._

_“Don’t thank me,” Medic muttered as he proceeded to the doors again._

_As soon as the doors opened, the Scout hopped onto his feet. Medic held the doors for him as he limped inside. He looked like he was probably exaggerating a surface level injury._

_“I don’t know what to tell you, doc,” Scout said, with a mournful tone, “It hurts real bad though.”_

_“Yes, I thought you might say that,” Medic muttered._

_“What was that?” Scout looked to him._

_“Nothing,” Medic gave his head a shake before gesturing to the beds, “Would you mind laying down please?”_

_“Uh…alright,” Scout shrugged and laid out on the bed. It was after the fact that he realized that he should remove his shoes._

_Medic rolled his eyes at the younger man as he brought anesthetic to the bed. The younger man had no idea what it was for. So, when Medic pulled the mask over his face, he was not prepared to fall asleep. Medic had to catch him before he fell right off the bed. He easily placed the smaller man on the pillow, letting him rest there._

_“Stupid boy,” Medic shook his head as he straightened the Scout’s legs on the bed._

_When he opened the doors again, it was to find a stare down. The Demoman and the Spy were staring each other down with a strange sternness. Medic glanced between them, wondering which would cave first._

_“You seem more injured than I,” the Spy gestured to the other man, “Please.” His arm swept around to gesture to the door._

_“No, after you,” Demo gestured to the door._

_“Please, I insist,” the Spy pressed._

_“No, I insist,” the Demoman gestured to the door again._

_Medic sighed, “You can both just come in.”_

_The two men were silent as they glanced between each other. They looked to Medic as they slowly got to their feet. Medic held the door for them, waiting as each man entered the infirmary. As he expected, they were quick to notice the other mercenaries sleeping._

_He took a breath, trying to settle his rapidly beating heart. He wanted to cancel this and run off. He had to finish what he started though._

_The Spy was the first to speak up, “Is all of this necessary?”_

_“They have some severe injuries,” Medic answered, “I’m working with as much efficiency as I can.” He hoped this lie would set well with Spy._

_“You can rest assured,” the Spy said, “I will not need such treatment.”_

_“Speak for yourself,” the Demoman grabbed anesthetic and approached a bed. He was completely unprompted as he removed his shoes and laid out on the bed. “Some of us would rather forget pain,” the Demoman said before placing the mask over his own face._

_The Spy huffed, “Well, I suppose some men don’t have worries.”_

_Medic looked at the man, wondering if he was suspicious. Perhaps he was wary of Medic all along. Perhaps he knew Medic was going to do something. He might already know about his pregnancy project and could have assessed what would happen._

_He shook the thoughts away as he tried to assess a better way to address the situation, “What exactly are your injuries?”_

_“Well,” the Spy spoke slowly and hesitantly, “I do believe your donkey broke my ribs.” His arm moved slowly to gesture to his ribcage._

_“Let me see,” he approached and pulled away the buttons of the man’s jacket. The Spy looked offended by this, but he said nothing. Medic reached under the jacket to press into the ribs. This produced a pained noise and revealed shattered bones._

_“That hurt more than I was expecting,” the Spy shuddered._

_“You have multiple fractures and shattered bones,” Medic informed him, “I’ll need to perform surgery.”_

_“Doctor, can I just get-” Spy was gesturing to a medigun when Medic shook his head._

_“I understand you are hesitant, but unfortunately, we are caught with too much for one doctor to handle. The mediguns are on all mercenaries. There is not enough to just fix this up in a decent amount of time.”_

_“What about the field tools?” Spy begged, “Those usually work.”_

_“For temporary work. It patches up mortal wounds and fixes you quickly,” he explained, “It is not a miracle for shattered bones and misplaced parts. Many of your colleagues have been in here for surgery due to their intestines twisting during reassembly via the medigun.”_

_“But…I…” Spy’s eyes were begging, but he had no more protests._

_“As much of a miracle the medigun is…it does not know where your ribs go,” Medic explained, “I still have to align them in place. I’ll patch them up, you’ll be on the medigun and you’ll be good as new.”_

_The Spy sighed, “I’m not going to convince you to let me limp out of here…am I?”_

_Medic was going to take this opportunity and the Spy was not going to take it from him, “Nope.”_

_With a reluctant sigh, Spy limped towards the last beds available. He removed his shoes and gingerly put them under the bed. He climbed onto the mattress, slowly and painfully laying himself down. Tears began to spring forth as he finally rested his head._

_Medic tried to keep breathing as he became overwhelmed by pangs of guilt. Spy did not trust him at all. And now, knowing what he was planning as he placed the anesthetic mask over Spy’s face, he realized that he had every right._

_“At least I gave that stupid donkey what it was worth,” the Spy muttered as he drifted off to sleep._

_Rage reignited Medic’s mirth for his colleague. He had almost forgotten that he was doing this for a reason. Spy did not get this broken ribs on the job or some accident. No, he harmed the jenny and in the process was injured._

_“You’re getting what’s coming to you,” Medic growled._

_Medic’s work with the animals was a bit trickier. They were in absolute chaos and fear. With a bit of anesthetic, most of them went right to sleep. Some of them just became lazily sleepy though. He started with the dead goat, seeing as the time he had left was limited._

_He decided to make the Engineer his first project. It was easier to shuffle organs when he was not doing it to himself. Though the Engineer’s body was not exactly forgiving of the intrusion of a new part. Once it was stable in his body, he closed the man up and worked on his injuries. There was nothing here that the medigun could not take care of though, so he mostly just cleaned up the exterior of wounds._

_The donkey was still down. She did not respond well to the anesthetic, though he struggled to make it work. She needed a high dosage to finally get to sleep._

_To his dismay, after patching her up, he found that she had died during the surgery. Silently mourning her, he carried her offspring in the womb to Spy’s bed. He carefully moved the man’s clothes out of the way so he could work. He would fix his ribs in the process, but he was assuredly going to let this man get some real pain in his ribs._

_When he was finished with the Spy, his attention was draw to his pocket. The little squirrel was frantically, trying to stay away from his hand, while using his pocket as her place of safety. Finally, she leaped out in an attempt to escape. He caught her midair, grateful to have good reflexes._

_“Now then,” he carefully placed anesthetic over her face, which was more difficult with such a tiny snout._

_He was dismayed when her heart stopped from the anesthetic. He quickly got to work on trying to revive her. Nothing seemed to work though. He kicked himself mentally for not considering the dosage of the anesthetic comparative to her size._

_Medic made quick work of removing her womb, though it was tiny and more difficult to work with. He decided to place this one in Soldier. The smaller animal would not take as much space and the Soldier would be less likely to pester him about it._

_He made his way to his desk to find the Aardwolf. The trembling animal was terrified of him. It tried to bury its face in a corner as he pulled at it. It turned to bite him, but he ignored the response. It had every reason to be afraid._

_After assessing its wounds, he knew she would have to be put down. She was dying slowly and painfully. It would be best to let her go in peace. So, he gave her anesthetic, this time with the intent of letting her slip away in her slumber._

_Meanwhile, he removed her womb and brought it to Sniper. The sharpshooter’s entrails were fighting with the medigun. Typically, they retracted back into the body, but as the medigun was not very good at knowing where things belong, the entrails were blocking the healing. The result was that he was still open, though the skin around the opening looked smooth._

_He grabbed his scalpel and got to work clearing an opening. He shuffled the man’s insides around, digging a space for the Aardwolf offspring. As soon as he had it settled, he shifted his entrails, removing any twists or kinks so it could settle nicely into place._

_He made his way to the bear, who was curled up in pain. He gently coaxed an anesthetic mask over her face, sending her into a drowsy mood. He turned up the dose until she finally drifted off to sleep._

_With his patient under anesthetic, he quickly got to work. All the while, he begged and pleaded for her to pull through. He was not sure if she would, seeing as he had no idea how bears worked. Still, he would do his best to assure her survival._

_When he finished and patched her up, he removed the anesthetic and watched her. To his surprised delight she woke up. Blinking, she looked around, trying to make sense of waking up from slumber._

_“You’re alive and awake, my dear,” he gently petted her soft round ear._

_He turned his attention from the bear to the Heavy. He seemed like a suitable candidate for a bear. The man reminded him of a bear sometimes. It seemed fitting to make the most bear-like man the one to carry the bear._

_“Less stress on the mother bear,” he hummed as he shifted the man’s innards, “She will survive this.”_

_Once the Heavy was patched up, he made his way to the stables. The nervous mare was stomping her hooves uneasily. She let out a loud breath when he drew near._

_He cooed to her, trying to soothe her. He carefully made his way around her body to her head. She nervously looked away, avoiding his hands. He stroked her neck, letting his hands run over her soft fur. She took deep breaths as she eyed him. He let her calm down in his presence, watching out of his peripheral vision for her to look at him with her head rather than just her eye._

_Eventually, she did relax. She did not give her his head, as if he was some magical animal whisperer. All the same, he would take that. He gently touched her face, feeling the strong bones and the soft area filled with tissue. He wished he was touching a horse on better terms, but he was excited to be able to pet a horse. It had been a long time since he worked with equines._

_He left the stables to fetch some anesthetic. He struggled to get a mask over her nostrils, but he eventually managed. She struggled at first, but eventually decided to lay down. She breathed softly as she laid onto her side and drifted off into slumber._

_He knew she had a limited time to be down like this. He was not sure how long but he would not risk it. He need to finish and get her back on her feet as quickly as possible._

_It took a bit more work to get her womb out, though it was similar to working with the donkey. As soon as he had her closed up, he removed the anesthetic. He watched with bated breath for her to wake up, hoping she had survived._

_When she licked her lips and rolled up onto her belly, he breathed with relief. He rubbed her neck, gently coaxing her to wake up as she scrambled to her feet. She moved drowsily as she got comfortable on her feet._

_“That’s right,” he assured her proudly, “You made it.”_

_He picked up what he needed and brought it back to the infirmary. At first he thought about putting it in Scout, but then he realized that the smaller body would not be as suitable for a horse._

_The Demoman was perhaps the easiest to work with. Namely because he had had more surgeries than anybody else. Medic was already aware of where the organ would fit best._

_When he finished, he headed into the stables to find his final patient. Still sitting in her pen, the cheetah was licking herself. She looked more ruffled up than injured. He stepped in quietly and slowly knelt down to her level. Surprisingly, she was not alarmed by his presence._

_“Let’s get you taken care of,” he gently lifted her off the ground. At first she was uncomfortable, but eventually allowed it. He was surprised that she was not attacking him like she had done to Scout and the Engineer. Though he supposed that he would attack while being attacked too._

_He brought her to the examination table and held a mask over her face. It was a struggle to keep her still as she tried to pull away. After a while, she finally started drifting off, allowing him to get started on surgery._

_He patched her up and transferred the offspring to the Scout. As he patched the man up, he yawned, realizing how tired he was for the first time. He yawned as he made his way over to the examination table to remove the anesthetic from the cheetah. She dangled limply in his arms, even as she woke up. He laid her gently in her bed in the stable, before proceeding to fetch mediguns._

_There were not many mediguns left, but at least the Engineer and the Demoman were finished with theirs. So, he fetched a step ladder to pull these guns down. It was a bit of a struggle, given the angle. He almost dropped the mediguns onto his patients._

_He brought them into the stables and fastened them to the walls with a drill. He turned each one onto the respective surviving patient. He would not leave them to suffer in pain for so long._

_The bear was easier to coax into her pen than he had thought. After about a minute of medigun rays on her, she got to her feet and followed him into the stables. She followed him right to her pen, where he proceeded to fasten the medigun._

_“Uh hello?” a voice called through the sound of the drill._

_Surprised, Medic hurried back to the infirmary to find three men at the door. They were taking in the scene with pale aghast faces. They barely registered his presence before he spoke._

_“You’re here about the calk,” he stated, “Correct?”_

_One of the men nodded, still staring at the infirmary with disbelief. The three of them did not have anything else to say._

_“As you can see, the infirmary is busy. Come back tomorrow,” Medic told them sternly._

_“Um…but…” one man barely stammered out._

_“Out!” he barked at them._

_They did not stick around for more. They all quickly shuffled out the doors and trailed out of the base. Medic listened as their feel trailed away._

_He turned to his patients on the beds and decided to wake them. He started with the Engineer, bringing his field medigun over to train it on him. He decided to state that there was a failure with the medigun, if the Engineer asked._

_Soon after he removed the anesthetic, the Engineer rose with a yawn. “What happened?” the Texan asked._

_“You slept for a while,” Medic glanced at the clock and realized that it had been hours._

_“Huh…I don’t remember going to sleep,” the Engineer rubbed his head, “I don’t remember coming- Ah, no wait. I remember there being a bunch of animals in here.” He looked up at Medic, “Or was that a dream?”_

_“That was not a dream,” Medic informed him, “You all killed and injured the Administrator’s animals.”_

_“Oh good, I’m not crazy then,” the Engineer sighed in relief, “I remember there was some cat thing. A lemur? No that’s a monkey. Hell, I can’t get words straight.” The Engineer rubbed his head._

_“Take it easy,” the Medic patted his shoulder, “Concussions can do that.”_

_“Concussion?” the Engineer blinked at him._

_“Yes, you had a concussion,” Medic lied, “You just had not noticed. I realized when you passed out that you hit your head hard.”_

_“Oh,” the Engineer paused then nodded, “Yup, that’d explain it.”_

_Medic sighed in relief, “Yes, indeed.”_

_Engineer looked at the others, “What about them?”_

_“I’m working on waking everybody up,” Medic informed him, “It has been a long day of doing surgery.”_


	29. Be My Valentine

“Gramps?” a voice startled Medic out of his thoughts.

He turned to see the smallest woman still standing next to him. She held up some box of medication. He took it to peer closer at the label. It was indeed meant for nausea, but he looked closer for any indication as to whether it was dangerous for those who were pregnant. He was not willing to risk his project, even if it meant suffering through nausea.

As soon as that thought popped in his head, his eyes landed upon the warning. This medication was not intended for pregnant or nursing people. He realized then that any nausea medication he found would likely be unsafe for his project.

“You should be able to find that over here,” he distinctly heard Cherry’s voice and some footsteps.

He handed the box back to Lolly, “Unfortunately, I cannot take this. It’s unsafe for me.”

He was about to give up when he spotted a label with a woman holding a baby. It was clearly labeled “morning sickness” with some slogan beneath it. That was definitely what he needed, but now he was unsure about getting it. The girls knew he needed it for himself, but they would be all questions if he insisted on something meant for pregnancy. Beyond that, he intended to buy plenty so when the lot he worked with inevitably complained about nausea he could give them something safe.

“Right here,” he heard Cherry say, clearly addressing somebody else.

“Thank you very much!” the familiar German voice made his hackles raise to the heavens.

He turned slowly, checking to see that it was indeed who he thought it was. He was far more alarmed seeing that the man was closer to him than he had thought. He was turned to the other side of the aisle, comparing two boxes of medications.

“Do you know anything about these?” the RED Medic inquired of Cherry.

“U-unfortunately, I don’t. I’m not qualified to advise you about medication,” Cherry stammered out. He had never heard her so uncertain and shaken.

“Hmm…that’s disappointing,” the RED hummed. Suddenly he turned to the BLU Medic, addressing him as if they were close comrades. “What do you think?” he held up the two medications.

BLU Medic hesitated, taken aback a bit. He looked at the labels with recognition. “This one is better if you’re pre- if you’re trying to get some sleep. As for somebody who has to work and be active, try the other one,” he answered.

“Ah!” the RED set the boxes back on the shelves. He picked up another box and held it out to the BLU Medic. “What about this one?”

“It’s the same thing, just less pricey,” BLU Medic answered.

A hand tugged on his shirt and he turned to Lolly. He accepted the box she put in his hand to study the label. It was another nausea medication, but it also held a warning that made him groan.

“What about that one?” Lolly asked.

“Ah! Looking for something?” the RED Medic was suddenly at his side, shoulder to shoulder with him. He eyed the man sideways, but the other did not back away. “Nausea medication? Oh no, that won’t do.” The RED took the medicine from his hand, putting it on a random shelf haphazardly.

In the corner of his eye, he could see Cherry sigh in frustration at seeing a box of medicine being put in the wrong area. He said nothing, currently trying to catch up to the fact that the RED was here and so were all of the girls.

“Here,” the RED pushed him down the aisle and grabbed a box of morning sickness medication, “This will do the trick.”

“That’s for morning sickness,” Dolly informed him, “You couldn’t even decide between cold medicines.”

“True, but the nausea medicines have what he can’t have,” the RED gestured to BLU, “This one however does not!”

BLU Medic took the medicine, his heart hammering against its cage. He was not sure what to say or what was happening. He felt like he was caught between two images of himself. He hoped to some deity that the girls did not start calling him grandpa in front of this man.

“Yes…this has…none of what I’m allergic to,” BLU Medic forced out the words through the strain. He wished he could be anywhere else at this moment.

“Oh…that’s good,” Lolly spoke up.

“You should get a few more boxes to have…just in case,” the RED grabbed more of the morning sickness pills, piling them into BLU Medic’s hands.

“I didn’t know nausea could be treated by morning sickness pills,” Lolly whispered to Dolly.

“I don’t know how they work. So eh?” Dolly shrugged in response.

“Ah…” the RED sniffled. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and used it to rub his nose. It was then that BLU realized that RED sounded like his sinuses were stuffed up. “What else were you here to look for?”

BLU hesitated, glancing at the girls. Cherry was staring at the RED’s back with a curious tilt of her head. She looked perplexed by his behavior.

“No, but you seem like you need to be getting cold medicine and heading back to- er…home,” he said to the RED.

“Well, we ran out of cold medicine,” RED explained, “So I came to get that and some chicken broth for soup. I must be quite out of it though, because the cold medicines all look the same to me.”

BLU huffed and headed back to the cold medicines. He grabbed both kinds of medicines, one for sleep and one for daytime. He grabbed the RED’s sleeve and pulled him along as he made his way down the aisle.

“Where are we going?” the RED Medic asked.

“We’re getting tea,” he stated as he rounded an aisle.

“From here?” the RED sounded appalled.

“It’s cheap,” the BLU answered.

“Why tea?” the RED asked as they came to a stop at the small collection of bagged teas.

“Hot fluid will soothe your symptoms,” BLU Medic explained as he looked over the types.

“Well yes, but so does medication,” the RED argued.

“While you’re drinking tea, you’ll also be rehydrating,” the BLU added.

“Oh,” RED sounded remarkably surprised.

“It’s a win-win scenario,” the BLU explained, as he grabbed a box of chamomile tea.

“I had not thought of that,” the RED said, still sounding surprised.

“Here,” BLU placed the boxes into the RED’s hands, juggling the morning sickness medication in his own arms.

“Are you feeling alright?” the RED’s voice dropped dramatically low.

“Hmm?” BLU glanced around and realized that they were relatively alone.

“What with morning sickness and all…you look a mess too,” RED Medic sounded legitimately concerned, “You’ve been taking care of yourself, right? You haven’t been overworking?”

BLU glanced around hesitantly. He would not risk the girls hearing them talk about work. He was not about to let them pester them with personal questions about being colleagues in any way.

“I’m fine,” BLU finally answered, “The project is fine.”

“I didn’t ask-” the RED huffed, “You’re getting plenty of sleep, right?”

BLU Medic nodded to him, “Yes, I have been getting plenty of sleep.”

The RED sighed, “Good. I’d hate to see you- um…” The RED cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck. “What I mean is- You understand that-”

A throat clearing stopped the man. They both turned to look at Sapphire, who put a hand on the RED’s shoulder. RED looked to BLU, something like confusion seemed to pass across his eyes as she pulled him away.

“I’m just going to borrow this,” Sapphire winked at BLU Medic.

BLU stood still in shock. Sapphire winked at him? Why? He tried to reason out what she was doing as she dragged RED Medic away.

A hand tugged on his shirt and he looked down to see Lolly. She was giving him a curious look. Her big eyes were painted with dark lining. He did not remember ever seeing her with so much makeup, especially on her lashes. Her hair was styled, weighing more to one side than the other with curls at the ends.

“What is going on?” she asked quietly.

“Oh! Um…” this was a little more difficult to lie about. He was not sure what he could say to convince her not to dig further into the situation. He was not sure he could lie and say he never met the RED Medic before. “I don’t really know,” he offered her a smile, “I just heard him talking and thought he needed guidance.”

“Are you a pharmacist?” Dolly asked, squinting at him suspiciously.

“That would explain a lot,” Lolly nodded.

“I am not a pharmacist,” Medic frowned, “I’m a doctor.”

“Wait, you are?” Dolly gave him a look of shock. It was then that he noticed she was also wearing a lot of makeup. Her braid was pulled over her shoulder as usual.

“Yes,” he gave her a stern look, “I don’t know why you find this so surprising.”

“It’s just so unexpected,” Dolly raised her hands to the air.

“Wow…so you’re Dr. Grandpa!” Lolly gasped.

“Don’t call me that,” he groaned.

“Alright!” Sapphire called their attention as he drew the RED Medic back to the group, “I’m done here. I think you’ve got this.” She winked at the RED Medic before passing both of them. She grabbed one of Lolly’s hands and one of Dolly’s hands in passing.

He watched Sapphire drag the confused girls away with confusion. He was not sure what that was about. Then again, Sapphire struck him as a strange young woman.

BLU Medic shook his head. He turned to the RED who proceeded to the cash register. BLU followed with a shrug. He might as well pay for his things.

When he arrived, the RED Medic was silent. He did not even answer Cherry’s question. So, she had to make an assumption. After paying for his things, the RED hurried out the front doors.

BLU Medic was surprised. He expected the usually social man to at least say something to him before leaving. He turned his attention to Cherry at the register.

“This is for that pregnant lady, huh?” Cherry asked as the register beeped.

“Um…sure,” he responded as he took his paper bag.

“C-can we talk?” she asked quietly.

BLU Medic looked at the front doors, mostly glass with metal paneling. He could see the RED Medic out there. He was clearly waiting for the BLU to come out.

“Later,” he answered, as he started for the front doors.

He passed the other three girls who were whispering amongst themselves. They fell silent as they looked at him. Dolly gave him a thumbs up. Sapphire gave him a smug grin. He studied each of them for a moment, before he turned on his heel to hurry out of there.

When he opened the doors, he expected to be immediately greeted by the RED. His counterpart seemed distracted. He was zoned out, staring blankly at the floor. It took clearing his throat to get the RED’s attention.

“I am glad you have the sense to handle things civilly in public,” the BLU told him.

RED Medic frowned, “Have I not been civil?”

BLU continued without missing a beat, “We should interact as little as possible in public.”

“H-huh?” the RED Medic blinked at him.

“Our arrangement may not be bothered by the Administrator, but there are people in this town. People talk,” BLU explained, “It will be easier to simply avoid one another.

RED Medic’s mouth opened and closed several times. He said nothing.

“Do you hve some thought about that?” BLU offered him the chance to speak his mind.

RED looked dejected as he shoved a box into BLU’s hands, “No.” RED tuned and hurried to a RED labeled truck in the parking lot.

BLU looked on with uncertainty. He thought RED was acting very strange. He started slowly towards his own car. He warily watched the RED truck pull away. He climbed into the driver’s seat of his car and set his bag on the passenger seat. He finally looked at the box in his hand. There was a pink envelope on top of it.

He took the envelope and pulled it open. With nothing sticking it closed there was no reason to tear it. He pulled out a Valentine’s Day card. He chuckled at the heart with a smiling face on the front. He opened it up to find that the printed words say “You stole my heart!”

He stared at the card as he closed it. It was a weird thing to give him. He moved it aside to look at the box. It was an unopened box of chocolates. The picture on the packaging marketed an assortment of fillings and silhouettes of women being fed the chocolates.

A knock came at his window, startling him out of his thoughts. He opened the door as Sapphire, Dolly and Lolly appeared. Lolly and Dolly remained behind Sapphire, as she spread her arms over the space of the door opening.

“What the hell was that?” Sapphire’s outburst was surprising, but at least he thought it was not uncharacteristic for her.

“What was what?” he asked.

“Gave you chocolates and everything! Why’d he leave like that?” Sapphire demanded.

“I…don’t know…” he furrowed his brow as he recalled the RED’s dejected face.

“What’d you say to him?” Sapphire demanded.

Medic licked his lips, as he did not want to divulge that to these girls. He glanced at Dolly and Lolly, who were staring at him with big wondrous eyes. He already had to deal with Cherry knowing, he could not handle them knowing about this too.

“Grandpa?” Sapphire’s tone was sharp to catch his attention.

“What do you want, Sapphire?” he asked, hoping to deflect the question.

“For serious? Did you literally refuse a date? Like, I can only do so much to help a senior gay,” Sapphire huffed and shook her head.

“Did I literally refuse a…what are you talking about?” he blinked at her.

“I told him to ask you! Did he even ask you?” Sapphire demanded.

“Ask him what?” Lolly whispered to Dolly. Dolly simply shrugged in response.

Medic frowned at Sapphire, “He didn’t ask me anything.”

“Oh Goddammit!” Sapphire threw up her hands.

“What is happening?” Lolly looked to Dolly again, but Dolly was not paying attention to her.

“What?” Medic scoffed.

“Come on, grandpa! This was your chance!” Sapphire threw her arms up into the air with exasperation.

“I mean…I don’t even know that guy,” Lolly spoke up, “Do you know that guy? Because I have never seen him before.” Lolly looked to Medic for an answer.

“I’ve seen him around,” Dolly answered, “He creeps me out. He’s like the opposite of grandpa. Grandpa is like…the adorable old Austrian grandpa, and that guy is like…the creepy German.”

“I’m German,” Medic corrected.

“Oh…well then you’re the adorable _German_ grandpa,” Dolly gave him an awkward smile.

“Also, I am not adorable,” Medic protested.

“Well, did you know him or not?” Sapphire demanded, “Because he seemed to know you. He was certainly…” She paused, leaning with one hand on top of the car. She reached down to tap the card in his hand, as if it finished her sentence.

He looked from the card in his hand to Sapphire’s face. Her face was twisted with frustration or disappointment. Maybe it was both. He was not entirely sure how to respond to her though.

Sapphire clicked her tongue, “Hope you get to see him again. Because…” She smacked her lips loudly as she side eyed the other girls. “Not a lot of those opportunities like that in this one-horse town.

“What do you know about that?” Medic looked at the card in his hand.

A Valentine’s Day card was in his possession. It was given to him by the RED Medic. It was the kind of thing you gave to somebody you were interested in.

“Oh no,” he did not mean for the words to escape his lips but they did.

“Oh…” Sapphire’s tone changed dramatically as she studied his face, “You know him. You just don’t like him, right?”

“Uh…” Medic looked from the card to her and back. He could not make up his mind. A fleeting interest of sexual nature had occurred to him before but he never really considered the RED Medic. He barely knew the man. “I…”

“Oh no! Grandpa, are you okay?” Lolly tried to squeeze past Sapphire to hug his arm.

“Sapphire, maybe don’t meddle in affairs like this,” Dolly said.

“I didn’t meddle in anything,” Sapphire held up her hands defensively, “I only gave a guy an opportunity to express himself. He made the choice to do that. He expressed himself. That’s on him. Don’t try to pin blame on me.”

“I need to go,” he set the card aside and placed the chocolates on the passenger seat.

“Are you going to be okay, grandpa?” Lollypop asked.

“I’ll be fine,” he patted her. The gesture convinced her to let go of him. “Goodbye,” he said as he closed the car door and pulled out of the lot.


	30. Tricking the Guinea Pigs

BLU Medic sat at his desk pondering the situation. His hands were working off the packaging for medication and transferring pills into alternate, unlabeled bottles. His mind did not want to focus on the mundane task while important questions still hung in the air.

He had not considered that the RED had been that kind. He had only looked at him as an attractive interest. His strange nature had always been appalling though. The RED Medic clearly held no hard feelings about anything. It seemed to be in his nature to treat the wretched fighting as something tongue in cheek. He never considered that the RED was actually trying to get closer to him.

It did make sense on the perspective of RED’s overly comfortable disposition. It struck him as an odd quirk about his personality, but RED seemed to be very comfortable getting close to BLU. He was often in his space and had grabbed onto him on more than one occasion off the battlefield.

He had never considered it because he never considered the RED as being off the battlefield. Off duty or not, BLU was always alert. That was the way it was supposed to be. The enemy was the enemy. You did not change you tune after the battle, just because you were not in the middle of fighting.

Then again, it was never his fight he was fighting. Perhaps RED realized that long ago. Not that BLU ever considered this to be his fight in the first place. But employer expectations were forever engrained into his mind. It was an unspoken rule of war. Do not fraternize with the enemy.

History was wrought with examples of people going against this norm. Plenty of veterans told tales of interacting like normal human beings while the battle was silent. But the most common stories held them at a distance. They were stories of things that were inconsequential. Nobody would be hanged for throwing a rock with a message over no man’s land to ask the enemy if they needed medicine. You were unlikely to be shot for stopping to have a smoke from the safety of your own trench, sharing a moment of peace with the enemy, despite never meeting him.

BLU Medic shook himself out of his thoughts. He set his work down and discarded of some trash. He should be focusing on his work. He should keep his brain focused on the tasks at hand.

He usually had a good focus on what he was doing. He wondered if he was not doing as well as he thought. Then he remembered a detail he had not been thinking about. Hormones.

RED had insisted on hormones before, but a blood test after the MRI revealed that his body already held a different hormone balance. He had hoped for this when transferring the full anatomy to his body. It was not just an organic pocket with a fetus inside. It was attached to the ovaries, which would continue to secrete the progesterone and estrogen levels necessary to keep the project alive.

Curiosity struck and he rose from his desk. He pulled out some test tubes and pulled back his sleeve. A quick draw of blood gave him all he needed for the tests. He finished by taping cotton to his arm and holding the pressure on it by folding his forearm up against his upper arm.

He got to work on testing the tubes, intrigued about where his levels might be. He could feel the anxiety pressing on him as he worked. His heart was thumping at the thought that it may all just be hormones that were affecting his thoughts. It might just be a hormonal change that was making him see things in a strange and different way.

At the end of the day, the RED Medic was his enemy on the battlefield. As soon as they were done with this project, they would be back into battle. There would be a whole restart to the ages old war going on between RED and BLU here. It was just time that he needed to keep the projects alive for the Administrator.

When he finished what he was doing, he set it aside. He proceeded to his desk to finish his work on the pills. He would eventually have to deal with the nausea that would come. All of them would be asking him questions and he would not be able to give many answers. He could avoid all of that though. He could just give them these pills and call it a day.

In a couple of days, the supply train would be arriving. The Administrator had promised additional materials he asked for. Some of these being prenatal pills that would tide over all seven mercenaries. She did not ask many questions, but something inside of him was sure she knew exactly what he had done.

The door suddenly swung open and he quickly cleared the desk of evidence. His trash bin was quickly shuffled under the desk to hide the pregnancy-related labels. He left only the pill bottles out on display, carefully ushering another pill into a bottle to appear busy.

“What’s this about work?” an Australian accent demanded.

Medic turned to see a line of mercenaries shuffling into the infirmary. They looked different levels of morose. The Engineer did not look like his cunning self, standing like he was about to teeter over from lack of sleep. The only mercenary who seemed himself was the Pyro, who had a slight tilt to his head.

“Hmm?” Medic prompted them to speak, hoping to get more of what happened out of their mouths.

“The Administrator called,” the Sniper spoke for the group, “It seems we’re supposed to be helping you with a project?” The Sniper approached the desk with a suspicious glare. He peered at the bottles with the same suspicious squint.

“What all did she tell you?” Medic asked.

“Why don’t you just tell us?” Engineer’s usually sharp veneer was softened by the tired croak and pained groan of his voice.

“Because it would be redundant to repeat information,” Medic said, diverting slightly from the truth. He was not lying at least. He just could not risk telling them a lie only to find out that the Administrator told them the truth. Nor would he tell them the truth if the Administrator had not told them what he was sure she knew.

“She said we are supposed to be assisting you,” the Engineer approached the desk. He leaned a hand on the edge, clearly taking weight off his feet. He looked worse for wear, as if he had not slept all night.

“What else?” Medic pressed, hoping the Engineer was not playing tired to get him to lower his guard. It would be a clever ruse, to feign exhaustion in order to make somebody feel safer in a sense.

“She did not explain much,” the Spy spoke up for him, “She did have a rant about expensive animals and how we’re failures.” The Spy threw his hand in the air in exasperation. “She said we are not to be on the battlefield until further notice.”

“Is RED team babies?” the Heavy asked, with an amused chuckle.

Medic was not sure why the last word sent his nerves on fire. It was like electricity under his skin and he could not help but scratch at it. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“You all seem very tired. I take it you did not sleep well?” he eyed them curiously. Heavy, Spy and Sniper seemed the sharpest, but there were still pieces of evidence to show that they had not slept well at all.

“Must have been from the uh…getting treated,” the Engineer spoke up, “Slept so much we couldn’t sleep all night.”

“I’ve got a splitting headache,” the Demoman groaned.

“You and me both,” the Engineer added.

“Are you _trying_ to deflect attention from the question?” the Spy suddenly demanded.

“Huh?” Medic’s head swiveled as the Spy appeared at his side and slammed a hand onto the desk. He held his breath and pleaded in his mind that the Spy would not see the evidence he was hiding. He could not handle a confrontation of _that_ magnitude right now.

“The Administrator said you would be- that we would be helping you,” the Spy shook himself as he fumbled with his words, “You haven’t clarified what it is we will be doing.”

“Well, you _will_ be helping me,” the Medic explained, wary that his next words could keep them all calm or alarm them. He had to choose carefully what he would tell them. He was not sure when, but he would pick later to tell them the full truth of the matter. He was not sure any of them would take well to knowing what was inside of them.

He held his breath, suppressing a chuckle as he remembered that Spy’s belly now contained a donkey. Just thinking about suppressing that made him want to laugh harder. He could barely control himself. He was suddenly giddy.

“How?” the Spy pressed.

“There are…little tests we are going to be running,” the Medic explained, “You’ll be on medication and you’ll do regular blood tests to make sure your h- your bodies are…healthy.” He swallowed, careful to avoid the word hormones.

Pyro made a questioning noise, which brought his attention to the masked man. He had not been involved in the animal hysteria at all. He had not been treated before. He must have retreated to his private space after the battle was called off the day before.

“Ah! Pyro,” he swallowed as he realized the error left Pyro out of what the rest were involved in, “Unfortunately…you do not qualify to partake in these tests.”

“Oh- what?” the Scout scoffed.

“Why does he get a pass?” the Demoman threw a thumb at Pyro.

“I cannot discuss that,” Medic held up his hands, “It’s private confidential information that would be up to Pyro to share if he chose. But he doesn’t know what it is yet.” He swallowed, as he realized that he was just talking for the sake of filling the space. It would not satisfy them.

Pyro surprisingly folded his arms over his chest and made an angry noise. Medic could not understand it as anything other than frustration. He wished he could apologize then, given that Pyro was likely to assume why this was.

“I am only looking out for your health, Pyro,” he insisted, “I would not agree to helping the Administrator if I did not know your health history.” He looked over the others to show that the last part referred to them.

“So we’re guinea pigs?” the Spy backed off a little bit, “For what?”

“For…” Medic chewed on the inside of his lip, “It’s…I’m not allowed to say.”

“The hell do you mean you’re not allowed to say?” the Sniper narrowed his eyes.

“Come on, doc!” the Scout spat, “Give us something better than that!”

“Unfortunately, I cannot,” Medic insisted, “It’s out of my hands. Until the Administrator gives the okay on it…”

“We’re just supposed to go along with this?” the Engineer asked groggily.

“Well, I can only promise that the procedures are safe,” he lied, “That the testing and the uh…medication will not harm you.”

“Is that what these are for?” the Spy picked up a bottle to inspect it. There was no label so he could only pretend to know what he was looking at. Even a medical professional would not know what they were looking at without testing.

“Yes,” Medic said, “Well…these are not actually for tests. These are a…uh…new form…of medication, meant for uh…treating nausea when taking medication.”

“Don’t we already have that?” Scout asked.

“Medication for nausea we had, yes,” Medic gestured to the medicine cupboards which held medicines that the mercenaries could openly peruse, “But since you will be taking medication, we want something that won’t be conflicting with it.”

“So we’re going to get nauseous?” Scout winced.

“It’s just a precaution,” Medic took the bottle from Spy’s hand and set it on the desk, “Just in case. Though…I do think there may be a chance some of you will become nauseated.”

“Like there’s a higher chance for some of us than others?” the Engineer looked hopeful.

“Sure,” Medic lied.

Sniper muttered something inaudible as he moved away from the desk. The Spy sighed as he slowly made his way around the desk to join the others. Medic finally breathed, relieved that he had not seen the evidence. Surely, he would have said something if he had.

There was a long and awkward silence. Medic was not entirely sure what to say, but the others were saying nothing. Finally, as if fed up with the silence, Pyro marched off towards a storage room.

“Erm…what are you doing?” Medic called after him. Of course Pyro’s response was muffled behind his mask.

“So, what are we supposed to do?” the Demoman asked.

“There is a supply train bringing the supplies I need for the projects,” Medic explained, “In the meantime, you are all to rest. And I mean _rest_ not do whatever it is you would normally do. Go lay down.”

“Well, at least one good thing came out of this,” Sniper muttered as he started out the doors.

Medic was silent as the others slowly began turning and making their way out. Only Heavy and the Soldier stayed behind. Soldier was standing stock still as if he was unaware that it was time to leave. Heavy was studying Medic with curious eyes.

“Is there something on your mind?” Medic looked between Heavy and the Soldier.

Heavy side-eyed the Soldier before he approached the desk. He looked at the pill bottles for a moment before returning his attention to Medic, “Is problem in stomach.”

Medic’s stomach swung low to his feet, “Er…a problem?”

“Here,” Heavy poked a finger against his abdomen, almost exactly identifying where the parts had been inserted.

Medic slowly got to his feet and moved around the desk. He had to at least treat this like an actual problem. The Heavy would become suspicious if Medic said he knew what it was. Heavy lifted his shirt and Medic gently palpitated the area with his fingers. His heart followed his stomach to the floor as he felt something abnormal.

“Has been there since Heavy woke up from treatment,” the big man’s voice rumbled in his chest.

“I see,” Medic licked his lips as he thought through what he needed to do. He definitely had to open him up and see what was going on. There was no time to wait for an MRI.

Pyro suddenly came stomping out of the storage closet with a box under his arm. He dropped the box on the desk carelessly and started flashing cards at Medic.

“Pyro, not now,” Medic gestured for Pyro to stop.

The Pyro would not be stopped, flashing a flurry of cards at Medic insistently. He was adamant about being paid attention to.

“I cannot help you right now,” Medic looked up at Heavy, “I um…I’m not going to be sure what this is until we get you on the table.”

“Doctor has picture machine for looking at insides, da?” the big man asked.

Medic glanced around the infirmary, feeling he might have missed something. When he saw no MRI machine around, he shook his head. “No, it hasn’t been replaced. I think I’ll be able to identify and fix whatever the problem is with surgery.”

Heavy nodded and let his shirt drop. Soldier suddenly jerked and looked around.

“Soldier?” Medic caught the man’s attention, “Did you need something?”

“This one needs sleep!” the Soldier announced as he turned to march out the doors.

“Okay,” Medic shook his head as he turned his attention back to Heavy, “Let’s get you prepped for emergency surgery.”

Pyro grabbed onto Medic’s arm and jerked him around. “What, Pyro?!” Pyro shoved a card against his glasses. “What?” he pulled back and adjusted his glasses. The card was an image meant to depict Pyro. “Not now, Pyro!” he pulled his arm away from the arsonist.

He turned and quickly followed Heavy to the examination table. He turned on the medigun in preparation, while Heavy moved his shirt out of the way. Medic snatched up some disposable gloves and began assembling surgical tools onto a small tray. He brought the tray to the table to begin preparing Heavy’s incision.

Once the area was sanitized, he quickly did a once over on the scalpel to make sure it was sanitary, before bringing it to the man’s skin.

Pyro’s shout and a hand shaking his shoulder startled him into throwing up his arms. The scalpel flew from his hand and clattered across the tile floor. Medic spun, flinging his arms to keep his balance as a BLU masked man shoved a picture in his face.

“PYRO!” he shouted as loud as he could.

Pyro was shouting through his mask and waving his picture. It was done in a green crayon and was not very detailed. He could tell it was meant to be a person in a skirt, with an X drawn across them.

“Pyro…” Medic was shaking as he slowly took the paper from him and crinkled it up in his fist, “I’m dealing with an emergency.”

“Is this urgent?” Heavy suddenly asked.

Medic whipped his head around to look at the man, “I didn’t want to frighten you.”

“Ah,” was the Heavy’s response.

Pyro tried to shout as he stomped about. He could not be understood through the mask, but he seemed determined in spite of that fact.

“Get out!” Medic pointed to the doors.

Pyro stopped shouting and looked at him. He tilted his head slightly in surprise.

“You want to be treated like the rest?” he took a shot in the dark about what the tantrum was about, “Then get out!”

Pyro hesitated, looking to Heavy then back to him.

“If you are going to be a menace, then I will personally boot you out of this infirmary myself,” Medic stepped towards Pyro and the shorter man stepped back. “OUT!”

Pyro threw up their hands and slowly backed away. They kept their goggles trained on him, as if he was being dangerous. He stood still, watching them until they exited the doors.

Once Pyro was gone, he quickly walked across the room to fetch his scalpel. He brought it back and placed it by the sink to wash later. He grabbed a different scalpel and began sanitizing it. He would not risk causing a needless infection.

“Will hurt?” the big man asked.

“The incision will sting,” Medic answered as he pressed the tip of the blade to the man’s skin.

The patient inhaled deeply but otherwise did not react. Medic quickly opened him up wide enough to get a look at what was going on. The parts had tumbled somehow. They were not right side up. He shoved his hands in to move this part around, sighing in relief that it was nothing worse.

“Is…problem?” Heavy asked.

“Thankfully no,” Medic checked to make sure the surrounding organs were a proper color and not out of place. He grabbed the nozzle of the medigun and turned it up so it would close the incision. “You had a twisted bowel,” he lied.

“Would have been bad,” Heavy sighed, “Thank you, doctor.”

“You’re welcome, Heavy,” he patted the man as he sat up, “Now go get some rest. Hmm. Go sleep and I’ll…I should probably make sure everybody eats as well.”

“Does doctor need help with cooking?” the man asked.

“I appreciate the thought,” Medic replied, “But you need sleep.”


	31. Corner

The silence at the base was terrifying. The restlessness was uneasy. The eeriness was getting into his nerves, sinking deep into his bones. Even as the afternoon wore on, his usually awake-by-now team was still in bed. Without their usual clatter, the rooms and halls felt wrong.

Medic followed his feet from the base to his car and climbed in. He made up his mind. He needed to get away from this place for a little while. He needed to talk to somebody. He needed some social stimulation.

He pulled up to the house and parked his car out of the way of the drive. He strolled to the door and raised his hand to knock. His knuckles did not reach the door’s surface, before the door swung open.

He was practically face to face with Cherry, but her head was turned. His eyes turned to Dolly, who she was addressing. Dolly immediately looked surprised when she saw him at the other side of the doorway.

“If I’m not back in about seven hours-” Cherry cut off when she realized that he was standing there.

He was surprised by her attire. STanding taller than her, he could see right down the front of her loose blouse. Her skirt barely reached halfway down her thighs, leaving nearly every curve of her legs exposed. Her face had a powdered texture, thick and obviously painted on. Her eyes had a dark purple painted around them, with black accenting he lashes and a curl at the outer corner of each eye.

He blinked at her in confusion. She looked like she was using Sapphire’s style. He opened his mouth, but he was not sure how to tell her what he thought of her style. He wanted to tell her to go back inside and dress as herself instead.

“Oh,” was Cherry’s surprised reaction.

“Hi, grandpa,” Dolly greeted him.

He changed the knocking he planned to do into a small wave, “Hello.” It felt nice to be acknowledged.

Cherry grabbed his other arm, “We need to talk.”

She walked past him, forcing him to turn around. He followed her forceful grip with little hesitation. His heart rate rose as she guided him to her car.

“Get in,” her voice was more forceful and stern than he had ever heard her be before.

Nevertheless, he climbed into the passenger seat and pulled the belt over himself. He carefully evened out his breathing as he waited for her to start the vehicle. He tried to reason out why she would be acting this way. His mind went to the idea of a Spy. He quickly shook that paranoid thought away. A Spy would not be aware of the subtleties of his casual relations with these girls.

Cherry focused on driving for a silent minute. Medic was left wondering what the hell he was doing there. His car was being left behind at the house and Cherry had yet to inform him of their destination.

“Where are we going?” he asked.

“Nowhere in particular,” she answered.

He sighed, “Do you have a plan? We have to stop somewhere.”

“No, we don’t,” she said in a stern matter-of-fact tone.

He realized that her behavior was unnervingly different. She did not usually act or speak like this towards him. His mind went back to the Spy theory. A Spy might act coldly towards him without realizing they were giving themselves away.

“You've been avoiding me,” she said.

He frowned as he studied her overly painted face. She glared at the road as if to redirect her anger towards it. He was not sure how to respond, other than to deny the accusation. He already knew that she would not respond to denial. Nobody responded well when others did not accept accusations.

“I saw you just yesterday at the store,” he argued.

“You- I kept up my end!” she exclaimed.

“Your end of what?” he asked.

She growled, “You promised to explain...that place!”

Fear struck him as he realized that she felt owed an explanation about his work. He was not exactly in a line of work to be discussed in any public manner. He had completely forgotten about her excursion into the battlefield. There had been many other things on his mind.

“What is that place?” she asked, her tone finally softening.

“It’s...uh…” he struggled to find the answer for her. He could not necessarily answer her directly, as that would be foolish.

“It’s not rocket science!” she proclaimed, “What were you even doing there?”

“I work there,” he stated. His mind was filled with uneasiness as it raced.

“What do you do there?” she asked.

He took a careful breath, ‘I am a doctor.”

“And all of those other guys? What do they do?” she demanded, her tone dripping in irritation.

“I...well...one of them is an Engineer. He builds things. Most of them are security detail,” he could not think of a better alibi for the others.

“Bullshit!” she spat the word out like venom.

“Bullshit?” he tried to sound innocent and dumb.

“Do you think I am stupid?” she sounded even more irate the more she spoke.

“Do I- What?” he was too confounded to formulate a more useful thought.

“Do you think I’m fucking stupid?” she demanded louder.

“No! Why would I think that?” he asked.

“They’re not security detail,” she told him, “I know that. That guy….the red suit...he told me some things. He told me not to trust you.”

He chewed on the inside of his cheek. He was not entirely sure how to respond to this. She mentioned nothing before this. The most he could make of this was that the red suit she was referring to was probably the RED Spy. He must have spoken to her after killing the BLU Medic.

“I saw him stab you,” her tone relaxed, but her words became harried, “He pulled the knife out of your back before he told me this. I obviously knew not to trust him. But you…”

“I did not assume you would be so foolish as to trust that man,” he nodded, glad that she would not side with the RED Spy.

“And hten you fought...and they chased us. There were gunshots and explosions… That’s not a security detail!” she proclaimed, “I don’t understand how any of this fits together. I don’t understand what you do. But I do understand that you are not a trustworthy person either. Are you?”  
His heart pounded loudly in his ears. His breathing changed radically. It was hard to shake off the sudden pain of her words. It was getting dizzy in his mind. After all, it was always strange that Cherry and her friends accepted him with little hesitation. Without discussion, they had brought a strange man in, assuming he was friendly and safe. So, why was it hard to hear this? As if the ground was trying to escape from beneath his feet and leave him to fall into a void.

He gripped the seatbelt tightly as his inner world quaked from the thought of not being worthy of Cherry’s trust. He swallowed back the feeling to ask a question, “How did you get there? That is a secured, off-limits area.”

“I woke up there,” she stated.

“What do yu mean? One doesn’t just wake up at a battlement!” he exclaimed.

“Battlement?” she shot him a questioning look.

“How? How did you end up there?” he demanded more sternly.

“I don’t know!” her vocal pitch rose in protest, “I woke up in a camping truck!”

“A camper?” not many camping vehicles sat near the battlements. He could already name the only two men around with such vehicles.

“I guess I fell asleep. I might have had too much to drink. At least, more to drink than I thought I had,” she rambled quietly.

“Why would you wake up in the- in a camper?” his mind was racing. His patience for the Sniper had definitely run out. The man could stand to be brought down a peg for this.

“I was working,” she huffed a sigh.

“Working? At the store?” he tried to fit puzzle pieces together.

“No, the corner,” she replied. A breath after saying this a gasp left her lips and she cleared her throat, “That is...my job is...on- around a corner.”

He was a little perplexed by her inability to lie. It was considerably more pathetic than any attempt he had ever heard. It was so blatant that she was lying, though he did not know why. He had seen the Scout lie better with his pants down to his ankles. He was genuinely concerned that she was so clumsy with lying, of all things.

“A-are you...incapable of lying?” he asked.

“What? No! And I’m not lying!” she protested.

He raised an eyebrow at her, “You clearly lied. YOu didn’t even hide it well. It’s blatant and written on your face and riddled in your tone.”

“No, I didn’t! I clearly didn’t!” she protested.

“Continuing to lie doesn’t cover up the lie,” he insisted, “Your lie cannot be easily proven or else easily set aside. You look like a fool.”

“You don’t know where I work,” she said haughtily.

He rolled his eyes, “I know you work at that store.”

“Not anymore!” she announced boastfully, “I quit that damn job! I’m finished with that place!”

“Didn’t I...just see you there?” he asked in confusion, “Wasn’t it just yesterday?”

“Yes! I quit just last night,” she nodded proudly.

He blinked at her, “Why?”

She glanced at him sideways before blurting, “I was fired for my fourth strike.”

“Fourth strike?” this only served to confuse him more, “I thought it was three strikes.”

“Well, the manager was very forgiving. He said he could not ignore the fourth strike. So...yea...I ran out of luck,” she shrugged.

“Oh,” he took a breath and let it out slowly as he came up with something to say, “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Oh, It’s fine,” she dismissed it, “It’s not my bread-winning job anyways. It barely paid the rent.”

“So you have other work?” he asked.

“Yup!” she sounded proud of herself, “Working the corner’s a bitch, but it pays the rent.”

“Um...what is The Corner? Is that a shop or something?” he asked.

She flinched and squeaked. It startled him since she was in control of the vehicle, “I-I meant around the corner! It’s around the corner?”

He was not sure how to interpret this lie. It seemed like there was something on a corner, but he could not guess at what it was. He tried thinking voe rht idioms he knew in English. Maybe there was something he was overlooking.

“Hey, you didn’t finish answering what that place is about!” she exclaimed.

“You won’t tell me the truth about your work,” he shrugged, “I’m not telling you mine.”

“What?! That’s not fair!” she exclaimed.

“Take me back to the house,” he folded his arms, “I want my car.”

“I woke up there! To gunshots, an-an-an-a-and rockets!’ her tone raised in pitch as she spoke, “At least explain!”

He took a breath and readied the tone he used when he was out of patience for his dangerous coworkers, “No. I won’t do that. I am a dangerous man, and you are alone with me in your car. Take me back to my car.”

Cherry fell silent. She looked stiff as a board. Her knuckles turned white as her grip on the steering wheel tightened. She said nothing as she changed course and headed back towards the house.

They pulled up to the house and Medic climbed out. As he approached his car, he came upon Lollypop. She was dressed in similar attire to Cherry, but with bright colors that stood out even in the growing darkness. He was startled by her cheery disposition.

“Oh hi, grandpa!” she waved in greeting.

hIs hand paused at the door handle. This tiny woman looked like an adorable carp dressed up as shark bait. He moved away from his door and placed his feet in her path.

“Where in the world are you going dressed like that?” he demanded.

“I have work to do,” Lolly looked past him and whined, “Oh no! Cherry left! I was going to ask her for a ride.”

He shook his head, “You can’t go out dressed like that.”

“What?” Lolly reeled in surprise, “You’re not my dad!” She suddenly flinched at her own words. “Oh!” She studied his face for a long moment. “I guess I always call you grandpa. Don’t I?” She giggled at the thought.

“You cannot go to any sort of workplace dressed like that,” he insisted.

Lolly rolled her eyes, “Well I’ve gotta! Cherry and Dolly have been on my case for two months about my part of the rent. Like it or not, I have bills to pay and not enough tot cover them.”

He grunted, “I still don’t think you should be walking out in clothes like that.”

“|Look, I get you’re from an older generation, grandpa,” Lolly had a strangely mature tone in her voice. She usually sounded so childlike in all of her mannerisms, but she sounded like an adult. “But I am an adult. I can take care of myself and I knew what I am doing.”

He sighed and shook his head, ‘I don’t know what sort of workplace would let you dress like that.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she shook her head, “I really need to pick up another shift. Would you please please please give me a ride? Please?” She clasped her hands together as she pleaded.

He sighed, “Alright, get in.”

“Yay!” she cheered before walking around the front of his car.

He would be at fault for acting like she was not an adult. He recognized that she was definitely not an age where he could rightfully chide her like a parent. She could make her own decisions just as Cherry could. The difference was that Lolly was smaller and more child-like. It was easy to forget that she was an adult. He was not certain how old she actually was. That thought made his stomach turn over. She might have just turned 18 years old for all he knew.

He climbed into the driver's seat and started the engine. Lolly buckled the passenger seatbelt and settled into her seat. He pulled out of his parking spot, before looking to her for guidance.

“Head south,” she instructed.

H merely nodded and turned the wheel. The vehicle was gracefully quiet as it made its way along the smooth blacktop roads.

Lolly let out an audible sigh, “I’m so embarrassed. I didn’t think about it.”

“Think about what?” he asked.

“I um… I’m really embarrassed about my work. I hope you won’t judge me,” she spoke nervously.

“Well...what do you do?” he asked.

“I provide a service to people,” she told him.

“Hmm...well, I do that too. There is no shame in doing something like a service,” he explained.

“Hmm,” she hummed thoughtfully, “You’re right. That’s too vague.” She pointed to a turn and he focused his attention on not being hit by the car coming the other direction.

His mind brought up the drive with Cherry and what she said. She had a different job that she had been working at at the beginning of her story about ending up on the battlements. He was not sure what lines to draw there. Normally he might mind his own business, but now the curiosity was driving his mind into a hole.

“Lolly?” he spoke up.

“Hmm?” she gave him her full attention.

“What does ‘working the corner’ mean?” he asked, “Is that a store I’m not aware of? Some sort of English lingo?”

“Oh<” she gave a little gasp.

“Cherry was fired from the store yesterday,” he explained, “She tried to lie about her other job...she accidentally said something about. I don’t know why, and now it’s going to drive me insane. Around the corner? On the corner?” He sighed and clicked his tongue. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s not fair to lie to you,” Lolly said in a sad tone, “You’re grandpa.”

He sighed, “She’s fairly incompetent at lying too.”

Lolly chuckled, “Never ask her to lie on the spot. She’s just not good at impromptu.” She paused for a thought. “You’re good at that though, right?”

Medic eyed her sideways. He was not sure why, but her words were unsettling. He could not quite pin the shift in her tone, but it bothered him.

“I can’t say I know when you’re lying, but you’re the type who is good at it. Right?” she insisted.

He bit his tongue. He did not know how to respond to that. It seemed like a direct accusation. He wondered if perhaps Cherry was not as good at keeping secrets as she let on before. She might have already revealed her whole ordeal to her friends.

“I trust you, grandpa,” Lolly said, “So I’m going to tell you.” She pointed for him to pull over along the sidewalk. She shifted her purse and climbed carefully out of the passenger seat. She leaned down to speak to him again, like it was a last goodbye. “Places around here don’t pay us well enough to survive. We’re the women men pick up on the corner of the street.” She pointed up the street towards the corner. “Toodloo,” she closed the door and proceeded on her way.

Medic sat watching her walk towards the corner. His mind was reeling with confusion. He was not sure if he should try to give her a response or not. He felt like the conversation was not over. It should not be over, not about this. Then he reminded himself of his thoughts from before and shook all of this off. Lollypop was an adult who could make adult decisions for herself.

He put the car into drive and pulled away. He did not look her way. He did not dare look in his rear view mirror either. It felt like a horrible thing to just leave her there like that.


End file.
